


I'm Right on Top of That, Tony

by DyslexicSquirrel



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha Tony Stark, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artistic License, Blow Jobs, Boss/Employee Relationship, Bottom Steve Rogers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hair-pulling, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Knotting, Knotting Dildos, Light BDSM, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Omega Steve Rogers, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Rimming, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Top Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-03-26 18:18:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 92,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19011256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DyslexicSquirrel/pseuds/DyslexicSquirrel
Summary: “Excuse me.”Two heads turned toward him, Ms. Potts standing with a practiced, professional smile. “You must be Mr. Rogers. I didn’t realize the time.”Stark looked from her to Steve and back, his eyes widening slightly. He got to his feet, shaking his head. “No, uh-uh, not happening, Pepper. Is he even old enough to work? If he says ‘I’m right on top of that, Rose,’ I’m jumping out the window.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is my first foray into fanfic in a LONG TIME and my first jaunt into it in this fandom. I have decided to go with pre-serum Steve for this fic because it just fits with where I want the story to go (it's not completely mapped out, but I have a rough idea), but that being said I also decided to only incorporate some of Steve's ailments because honestly I didn't feel like dealing with some of them, hence the artistic license tag. 
> 
> I'm making this Alpha/Omega dynamics because I need a break from an original work I've been stuck on for a while that is omegaverse mpreg. Some of the tag, like knotting and mpreg, are for later, as well as the rating. I will probably update tags as I go as things progress and depending on how things go, the rating may go up. Keep that in mind, to anyone who might actually read this garbage that I'm writing 😂 
> 
> The title is a play on a line from Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter is Dead. I had Tony make a few references to it in this chapter, so it seemed appropriate. 
> 
> Eta: I’m slowly editing this fic cause, maaaaaaan are there typos. Best one so far: “There were two alphas who looked like they bench press cats...”
> 
> My phone know what I be talking about the most. 🙃

Steve Rogers paused on the sidewalk, glancing up at the streamlined glass and steel that make up Stark Tower, trying to catch his breath. Partly from the run here from the subway in the cold autumn air and partly because of how intimidating the building is. He rummaged in his messenger bag for his inhaler and tried not to get run down by the mid-day crowd on a busy Manhattan street. Retrieving his inhaler, he shook it before placing it in his mouth and took two puffs, and waiting a few seconds before releasing an exhale that ended on a cough.

He approached the doors slowly, wondering for the millionth time that day what the hell he thought he was doing. He’ d filled out the application and sent in his resume when the job listing came up because he figured, why not? The worst thing that could happen was they would say no. When he got the email request to set up an interview on one of his odd days off from his two part time jobs, he’d sat up so fast he’d almost fallen off his bed.

Someone like him was not supposed to be interviewing to be Tony Stark’s personal assistant. Steve knew it and he was wondering why this Ms. Potts, who was the freaking CEO of Stark Industries (a relatively new position from what had popped up on his Google search) was emailing him to set it up, even if she had been his PA at one time in the past. Shouldn’t she know he was horribly under qualified? Were they that desperate?

Well, so am I, Steve thought, checking his reflection in the glass door, fixing the lock of hair that never wanted to stay where he put it and lamenting the suit he’d picked up at Goodwill a couple days ago. Calling it a suit was pretty generous. It looked like he got it at Goodwill, the navy of the pants not quite matching the navy of the jacket, and Steve frowned at the way it hung slightly too big on his frame before he left his apartment this morning. Not that that’s hard. It had been the best he could do, though. Taking a deep breath he walked into the lobby.

The lobby is tasteful and modern and immediately makes Steve feel out of place. There were two alphas who looked like they bench press cars, dressed in dark suits, positioned at what he assumes are strategic locations. They both eyed him up and down before dismissing him as Not A Threat. It’s a typical reaction since he’s what his mom use to insist was petite when everyone else called him a runt (he had stopped growing in middle school when he hit 5'4" and he never managed to weigh more than 90-something pounds), but it still made him want to roll his eyes.

Steve refrained but just barely as he approached the reception desk. The omega behind the counter was impeccably dressed in a red button down and a black blazer, her dark hair swept up in a high ponytail. She smiled at him with Customer ServiceFace. “How can I help you?” It was said in a way that really means “I hope you’re just here to ask for directions.”

His mother had raised him to be polite, and instead of calling her on it, he said, “My name is Steve Rogers. I’m here for an interview.”

One perfectly arched brow twitched up for a fraction of a second. She’s far too professional to let it stay that way. “Just a second, let me check.”

She said it like he might be lying and, honestly, Steve can’t really blame her. He sticks out like a sore thumb. If he were in her no doubt sky high stilettos, Steve wouldn’t believe himself either. If he ends up getting this job, which seems like a big if, he’s going to have to get a better suit. And nicer shoes, he thinks, looking down at the worn Oxfords. They still looks old despite the shine he had given them.

_ She hadn’t even seen the shoes _ . It doesn’t matter. He was here and they had asked him to come here and he was going to brazen his way through no matter what the receptionist thought of him.

_ That’s the spirit, Stevie _ . He could almost hear Bucky’s voice in his head, using the nickname he had insisted on using since they were kids and felt a pang. He missed his best friend, but Bucky had gone off and joined the army while Steve was supposed to be going to college. Maybe if things had worked out, he would be distracted enough to not miss him so much, but seeing as how working two jobs hadn’t done it he doubts that college would have. 

When Bucky has decided to re-up a few years ago, it had broken Steve’s heart but he understood. Bucky hadn’t known Steve’s mom was going to die. The army gave him purpose, the ability to help support his family, and Steve was happy for him; it just didn’t make missing him any easier. Making friends had never been something Steve was good at. People liked him, he was a nice guy after all, but it never seemed to go much past that with most people. James "Bucky" Barnes had always been different. 

Even after Steve had presented as an omega, Bucky, who was a year older and already presented as an alpha, hadn't stopped being friends with him. Steve wasn't sure if it was just because Bucky felt protective of tiny omega Steve with his big mouth that always got him into trouble, but Steve was thankful for it. Bucky was the older brother he had never had on top of being his best friend.  _ Til the end of the line _ . That was what they promised each other in elementary school, after the millionth time Bucky had ended a fight Steve had started. In his defense, Steve was usually sticking up for someone else or defending himself against a bully who thought he would roll over. Even after presenting, that wasn't something he had been able to do. 

“Oh,” the receptionist said, pulling Steve from his maudlin thoughts. The other omega turned away from the computer screen and back at him, her smile slightly strained. “Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts are waiting for you upstairs. Last elevator on the right. It’s already cleared to take you to the penthouse.”

Steve was confused about why he was going to the penthouse (wait, hadn’t he read that Stark lived on the top floor of the building?), but took a bit of pleasure in how uncomfortable she was for a moment. But he still smiled at her before turning toward the bank of elevators. Because he felt bad.  _ You’re such a softie, Stevie _ . “Thanks.”

The elevator doors opened without Steve pressing the call button and he almost slipped on the marble tile when he stopped, looking around but he was alone. He must have been watching too many horror movies lately because he hesitated before stepping into the car then rolled his eyes at himself for being ridiculous.

There was no button for the penthouse, but it didn’t matter because as soon as the doors slide shut, Steve barely has time to fidget before the elevator starts moving up. Despite how many floors up the penthouse was, the doors on the 93rd floor were opening silently a few moments later. The two occupants in the room didn’t notice Steve’s arrival. And they were arguing when he stepped out.

“I keep telling you I don’t need an assistant, Pep,” Tony Stark said, gesturing with the tumbler that’s in his hand, even though it wasn’t even noon.

“I beg to differ,” Ms. Potts countered, taking the glass from him and setting it down on the coffee table. “Tony, you can barely take care of yourself.”

About him, apparently. He sighs. They hadn’t even met him yet and already he was making a great first impression.

Steve vaguely recognized Ms. Potts from news clips and photos online. Tall and slim, with strawberry blonde hair, wearing a black skirt suit and shoes that looked like they cost more than the rent on his apartment, she was imposing in a different way than the receptionist downstairs. He didn’t follow celebrity gossip, but it’s almost impossible to miss all the news of Tony Stark and his former-PA-one-time-girlfriend-turned-CEO-of-Stark-Industries that was a permanent fixture in his life. 

She’s a force to be reckoned with to be so successful in the corporate world. There were many who had tried to write her off, accusing her of sleeping her way to the top, but she swiftly showed them how wrong they were by putting the company back in the black after the incident with Tony’s kidnapping and the former CEO Stane being behind it, SI getting out of the weapons business. And it had only taken a year. 

Tony Stark, though, was… not what Steve had expected. The self proclaimed billionaire, playboy, philanthropist was as handsome as he seemed to be in pictures with his dark hair, equally dark eyes and his trademark beard (Steve wasn’t going to deny that the alpha was attractive cause he wasn’t blind), but the charisma he fed to the press was somehow absent, as was his signature suit. Instead he was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that was so worn Steve couldn’t make out the name of the band on it. Tony Stark looked tired.

Maybe it was because he was alone in his home, with someone he considered a friend or thought he was, and Steve all the sudden felt awful for intruding. He cleared his throat, but they didn’t hear him.

Stark picked his tumbler back up with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, pointing at Ms. Potts with one finger before taking a sip. “That’s what I have you and Happy for.”

Ms. Potts rolled her eyes, hands going to her hips, a pinched expression coming to her face that declared this wasn’t the first time they had had this conversation. “Happy is pulling double duty as your bodyguard and the head of security, and I’m the CEO of your company. Neither one of us has time to make sure you aren’t holed up in your workshop not eating or sleeping.”

Stark scoffed, dropping down on the couch in a sprawl. “So I work a lot. You haven’t exactly avoided the workaholic bug yourself.”

“I’ve been trying to make sure SI didn’t go bankrupt, Tony.” Her face softened and she moved to perch on the arm of the couch Stark was leaning against. She ran one of her hands through his hair. “We’re all worried about you. Ever since…”

Stark’s face closed off so fast if Steve has blinked he would have missed the shift. He made another attempt to get their attention. If that didn’t work, he was getting back on the elevator before he violated their privacy anymore. It didn’t matter than he had an appointment or that he had been sent up here. He cleared his throat again, louder. “Excuse me.”

Two heads turned toward him, Ms. Potts standing with a practiced, professional smile. “You must be Mr. Rogers. I didn’t realize the time.”

Stark looked from her to Steve and back, his eyes widening slightly. He got to his feet, shaking his head. “No, uh-uh, not happening, Pepper. Is he even old enough to work? If he says ‘I’m right on top of that, Rose,’ I’m jumping out the window.”

“Tony,” she said, the reprimand clear. “Won’t you take a seat, Mr. Rogers.”

“Call me Steve, please.” He walked over to one of the arm chairs opposite the couch where Stark had retaken his seat, a petulant look on his face. Steve met his eyes across the expanse between them. “And I’m twenty-four, Mr. Stark,” he tells him, choosing to ignore the movie reference.”

Stark rolled his head along the back of the couch, looking up at Ms. Potts to catch her eye. “I feel like he’s mocking me.”

“I like him already.” Her smile was sharp.

Stark slaps his hand to his chest, causing an odd sound that made Steve frown. “I’m hurt, Pepper.”

“You’ll live,” she said  in a dry tone, taking a seat next to Stark on the couch, crossing her ankles. “Thank you for coming in for this interview.”

“Thank you for offering.” Steve’s eyes flicked to Stark for a moment, long enough to see him roll his eyes and take another swallow of whatever was in his glass. “To be honest, Ms. Potts, I was surprised that you did. I don’t exactly have a lot of experience.”

“Cause you just graduated high school, probably,” Tony muttered, grunting when the woman sitting next to him dug an elbow into his ribs.

“With the trouble I’ve had trying to find a replacement for my previous position,” she said, pausing to send Tony a sidelong glance. Stark, to his credit, shrugged and pasted on an innocent expression. It was crap, but he almost pulled it off.  “I decided to try going in a different direction. Figured an interview couldn’t hurt.”

That, Steve could understand. Stark didn’t seem like the easiest person to work for. Steve didn’t have a lot of other prospects, so he might be more willing to put up with more. If he wasn’t so desperate for a well paying job, he might be offended.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” Ms. Potts asked, picking up a tablet from the coffee table in front of her. The interview consisted of Ms. Potts asking him questions, Steve answering, and Stark interrupting to make comments that were smartass, inappropriate, or both—when he bothered to look up from the phone in his hands. Steve and Ms. Potts largely ignored him. Stark was almost twice Steve’s age, yet he was acting like a child not getting the attention he wanted. 

After twenty minutes, Stark abruptly stood, heading for the bar and cutting Ms. Potts off mid question. “Sold! I’ll take this one, Pep.”

“Tony—”

“What? You said I needed an assistant. Might as well be jailbait over there.” He dropped a couple ice cubes in his glass, following it up with Scotch. He leaned his elbows back in the bar, letting the glass dangle from his fingers. His foot was tapping. “The last four were terrible. My expectations have dropped substantially.”

“It was six,” Ms. Potts corrected.

“Was it? Are you sure?” Stark furrowed his brow and tapped a finger on his lower lip.

Ms. Potts’ sigh  was filled with all the aggravation she felt and she cast her eyes heavenward. “I hired all of them. I’m sure.”

“Well then, hire this one. Sue Ellen is fine.” He pushed off the bar and headed for the elevator. “Just tell him to stay out of the petty cash. I’ll be in the workshop.”

Steve watched as he stepped into the elevator and his smirking face disappeared behind the doors then turned toward Ms. Potts. Her eyes were closed and fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. She took a deep breath before opening her them and samilingnar him. This one is still professional, but more genuine than the ones before.

“Sorry about that. Tony is…” She trailed off, giving the closed elevator doors a look Steve couldn’t interpret. When she faced him again she looked as tired as Stark had when Steve first stepped off the elevator, but only for a moment. She pulled the CEO back around her like a mantle. “It’s a bad day. This wasn’t how I planned on any of this going, but Tony is good at derailing even the best laid plans.”

“I’m starting to get that about Mr. Stark.” And he was. With everything he had heard about the man previously, there had to be another side to him if someone like Ms. Potts had been loyal to him all these years. She didn’t strike him as the type of person who was only in it for the money; there was real affection there even if they weren’t dating anymore.

Plus, Tony Stark had been through a lot in a short period of time. And that was just recently. The kidnapping alone would be enough to affect anyone. Steve watched the evening news whenever he could, keeping tabs on what was going on in the Middle East ever since Bucky joined the army. His best friend teased him about it, but he also new Bucky appreciated his concern and knew it was just something Steve needed to do, even if it fed his worry at the same time. There was a lot Bucky couldn’t tell Steve and his family. They didn’t even know where he was beyond “Afghanistan.” And Bucky has hinted a time or two when he was home or rare phone calls that he wasn’t always where he said he was. 

But in following the stories of the ongoing conflict, Steve couldn’t help hearing about Stark’s abduction. He had been held for months by a terrorist group called the Ten Rings before his rescue. Details had been kept to a minimum, but it was only logical to deduce that torture had been involved if for no other reason than who he had been kept hostage by. And Stark had been decidedly absent from public life after that, besides showing up at a benefit every now and then. It was a complete 360 from the party-every-night guy he had been before or even the going-on-a-date-with-his-girlfriend-every-night guy after he and Ms. Potts started dating. 

Maybe whatever happened over there had changed him more than anyone knew. Ms. Potts had said it was a “bad day”. Not that he was having a bad day, but that it was one.

Ms. Potts’ voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Good. You’ll need to if you decide to take the job.” 

“Wait, what? You’re actually going to hire me?”

“The fact that you’re still here after that disaster of an interview means you’re either hard to offend or desperate.”

“A little of both,” Steve told her. He always had been too honest. But Ms. Potts only smiles.

“Tony can be difficult to work with, so that might be for the best,” she said, chagrined. He was really starting to like her. She didn’t seem to be judging him on his bad suit and he thought she had been impressed by the answers to the questions they had been able to get through during the interview, especially the part when he mentioned having wanted to go to art school.

Ms. Potts stood, smoothing down her skirt with the hand not holding the tablet. He rose as well, tugging his jacket for something to do with his hands. “If you’re still interested, it seems you have a job, Steve.”

“I’m still interested.” He probably agreed too fast, but he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Of course he had already admitted to being desperate, so did it matter? It was this or finding a third part time job. God help him, but dealing with Tony Stark’s mercurial moods seemed less exhausting. He hoped that thought didn’t come back to haunt him. 

“Then I’ll take you to HR,” Ms. Potts said while gesturing with her free hand to the elevator. “There is a lot of paperwork, including some NDAs. They’ll be able to get you your ID for the building, which doubles as a keycard. Oh, and I’ll need to get your access to JARVIS set up.”

Steve’s head was spun. NDAs? He guessed that made sense. Didn’t want the new personal assistant blabbing about the boss or anything in the company, for that matter. All he said was, “Jarvis? Who’s that?”

Ms. Potts hit the call button with an elegant, manicured finger. Steve wanted to hide his hands in his pockets in case he hadn’t actually gotten all the charcoal off his fingers but resisted. “JARVIS isn’t a who, exactly. It’s the building’s AI. Tony designed it. Say hello to Steve, JARVIS.”

“Hello, Mr. Rogers,” a voice with an English accent said, causing Steve to start, looking around for the source. AI. Right. Of course the building had an artificial intelligence system built in.

“Uh, hi, JARVIS.”

The elevator doors opened and Steve followed Ms. Potts a bit dazedly. She pushed the button for level three. The doors slid soundlessly shut and they began to descend smoothly without even a bump. Steve wouldn’t know they were moving if not for the numbers above the door counting down. 

Even the elevators were fancy. Maybe he needed to break into his savings and get a halfway decent suit. Just one to hold him over until he got his first paycheck.

Ms. Potts was talking, but he only clued in halfway through a sentence. “... listen to Tony if he tells you days off don’t exist. You get three weeks of paid vacation a year, as well as scheduled time off for your heats. You’ll be required to travel with him when he leaves the city, which mostly just involves trips to his house in Malibu, but could require leaving the country. You’ll need a passport.”

“Sure.” He tried for a smile, but wasn’t sure how successful he was. This was really happening. He was getting this job. Maybe his life was finally turning around.

“I’ll set you up with Ms. Lewis in HR. She’ll help you fill out everything, set up your username and password for the network, company email, get you your own Starkpad and Starkphone—it just makes it easier to stay connected to Tony. He has an office on seventy-eight, but he barely uses it. Still, you’ll have a desk.” She paused. “Oh, and I’ll get together with you later in the week to… let’s just say, give you a few pointers.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

They arrived at their floor and stepped off. Ms. Potts stopped him with a hand on his arm, giving it a squeeze. Her smile was kind. “You’ll do fine, Steve. I have a feeling. And I’m usually right.”

Steve didn’t doubt that. He fell into step with her and they entered the open door to an office after a perfunctory knock. The brunette omega seated behind the desk, looked up with a bright smile. The v-neck shirt she was wearing under a bright purple cardigan was showing a lot of cleavage. 

Steve had never been attracted to women, but even he couldn’t help staring for a second before he wrenched his eyes away. She was… very well endowed and even gay men could appreciate boobs. The smirk Ms. Lewis gave him when he met her eyes told him he had been caught and he felt a blush heat his cheeks. At least, she didn’t look angry—just amused.

She gave Ms. Potts a bright smile. “Hey there, boss. What can I do for you?”

“Hi, Ms. Lewis. This is Steve Rogers, Tony's new assistant.”

The other woman groaned at Ms. Potts’ words. “Another one?”

“I think this one will stick.”

“Hmm,” Ms. Lewis said, noncommittally. “As long as he lasts longer than the last one.”

Steve wasn’t sure how to feel about being talked about as if he weren’t in the room. Ms. Lewis turned back to him and gestured at the chair across from her desk. “Well, take a seat.”

“I’ll leave you to it. We’ll talk later. I’ll have my assistant set it up,” Ms. Potts said. 

Then she was gone and he was alone with Ms. Lewis. He wasn’t worried, exactly. The other omega seemed nice, but her eyes were lit with a mischievous light that made him fidget after he sat.

“Alright, Steve— can I call you Steve?” She opened a draw, retrieving a thick folder, and placed it on the desk in front of her. She didn’t wait for him to answer. “There is a lot of paperwork to go through, so I hope you didn’t have plans for the rest of the day. By the way, call me Darcy. I know I should keep things professional blah blah, but Ms. Lewis sounds so stodgy.”

Her chattiness and lack of formality actually puts him at ease, and Steve felt his shoulders relax. He hadn’t realized he was so tense.

“Alright, let’s do this.” She handed him a pen, which seemed so old fashioned considering they’re in a building run by AI, housing one of the world’s best R&D labs. Darcy must have seen something on his face because she laughed. “Old school, I know. It’s just the way I like to do things. It’ll all be digitized after you sign anyway.”

“Oh, okay.”

“So, this is our standard NDA, indicating that you won’t disclose anything about Mr. Stark to the press, unless it’s been okay’ed by the PR team if it’s about SI and approved by the big guy if it’s of a more personal nature. Stuff like press releases, setting up press conferences, that kind of thing. Mr. Stark doesn’t do too many of those these days, but just in case.” She slide the stapled packet to him. Steve started to read as Darcy continued to talk. “It also says you won’t disclose anything you know about SI, to anyone outside of SI, without risking litigation. Have to protect the company secrets and, well, we work a lot with the military still, so.” 

The last is said in a whisper, like they were sharing a secret. “I thought Stark Industries was out of the weapons business?”

Darcy waves a hand dismissively. “They are. We did. But there are other things they need besides weapons that we can provide.”

Steve spent the next two hours reading forms and signing them. His eyes feel dry and his hand was starting to cramp, but by the time he left, he was the proud owner of a company provided Starkpad and a Starkphone, he had a desk, a company ID/keycard (he looked like a deer in headlights in his photo), username and password to the company network, remote access, and he’d talked to JARVIS to set up voice recognition and get access to the floors he was authorized for— the penthouse, Stark’s workshop on 79, floors 76 thru 78 for the executive offices and conference rooms, and everything from 55 down to the lobby.

He had met Stark’s quasi bodyguard/driver, but really head of SI security Mr. “Just call me Happy” Hogan, who seriously lived up to his name. 

He had numbers preprogrammed in his new phone for everything from Ms. Potts and Stark to the restaurants that Stark preferred. He had scheduled time off for his heat every month (he was always regular since he was on birth control), that even Stark had to respect (Darcy was sure to stress that to make sure he didn’t feel obligated to answer any calls from the ‘Boss man’). He had health insurance and dental. He had set up direct deposit. And then Darcy told him about the company credit card and his expense account.

“My what?”

“Oh, yeah, all Mr. Stark’s assistants get them. The card is so you don’t have to spend your own money and wait to be reimbursed when you have to buy things for the Bossman.” She paused, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “And the expense account is so you can get reimbursed for— you know—stuff that you might need for the new job.”

The up and down she gave him told him what she was too polite to say outright. Namely: buy some decent clothes. The way she said it, he wasn’t offended. She wasn’t trying to insult him, he could tell. Darcy wasn’t a mean person, unlike the receptionist downstairs, but people like her would be expecting him to look a certain way. He smiled to let her know he hadn’t taken as anything but how she meant it.  

“It’ll take a couple days for the company card— that will come in the mail, so keep an eye out. But you should have an email about how to submit things to your expense account, but you can just ask me.” He thanked her and she spread her arms. “You’re all done then. Here anyway. Might want to check in with the bossman before you go home or anything. That is if he lets you in, anyway. He’s probably in his workshop, and you do have authorization to go in, but… well, he can still get JARVIS to lock you out. Not you, specifically,” she rushed to add. “Anyone. In general. Which he does a lot.” 

“It’s okay. I get it,” Steve assured her. “Ms. Potts said Mr. Stark could be difficult.”

“You can say that again,” she mumbled. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s a great guy, don’t listen to everything you hear, but yeah, difficult. 

Her lips twisted into something between a smile and a grimace. Steve wondered how someone in HR would know Stark so well, and then didn’t want to know. Maybe he was friendly with all of his employees. He did still own the company, and he worked and lived in the building. You’re so naive, Stevie, Bucky’s voice in his head says. He had been dating his assistant, after all. Why does it even matter? He didn’t have an answer for that.

He says goodbye to Darcy and made his way to the elevator, swiping his keycard (since that floor was one of the more restricted ones) before pushing the button for 79 after he got on. The doors closed, but nothing happened. JARVIS’s voice filled the car, sounding almost apologetic. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rogers, but sir asked not to be disturbed.”

Steve sighed and hit the button for the lobby instead. “Thanks, JARVIS.” It felt weird talking to seemingly nothing, but he would need to get use to it. “Tell Mr. Stark to call me if he needs anything, I guess. You can give him my new number, I take it?”

“I will, Mr. Rogers, and yes I can.”

“Alright, thanks. And call me Steve, please.”

“If you prefer,” the AI replied. He wasn’t going to get freaked out that the voice sounded pleased.

The trip down took no time at all since it was only three floors. He exited the elevator and started crossing the lobby toward the door. Something petty in him made him flash his new ID badge at the receptionist with a wide grin when he caught her eye. The guards in the lobby gave him slight nods. Guessed news traveled fast.

Steve grabbed a slice of pizza before going to Macy’s and spending way too much on a new suit, a couple button down shirts and a tie. Then he went home, stripped down to his boxers and took a nap. He had a feeling he would need the extra energy tomorrow and he hadn't been sleeping well for a while. It turned out it was a good thing he set an alarm because he didn't wake up until morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a lil' shorter than I wanted, but seeing as it took longer than I had hoped to write- I spend like a week writing almost 5k words, realized it was horrible (no, seriously, it was bad) because I tried to force it somewhere it didn't want to go- but it's done and I posted something not too too long after I first posted this, so that's #winning in my book. These summer classes I'm taking aren't that bad (but they're going to go fast and I have a lot due in a week), but Fall semester is going to be nuts. Just wanted to apologize in advance if updates are sporadic. I'm going to do the best I can.
> 
> Also, I ended up making a few teeny, tiny edits to the first chapter to make things flow better. Nothing major. Biggest thing is that Tony was on a tablet during the interview. That will come into play later-- possibly the next chapter. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone for all the kudos, comments (which I read and will get around to replying to, I promise) and bookmarks. I didn't think anyone would even read this, so knowing other people are enjoying it is a great feeling. :)

After Steve got home to his basement studio in Bensonhurst the day he was hired, he woke up groggy the next morning after sleeping for 13 hours straight. When he got to Stark Tower, the lobby was filled with other SI employees coming in to start their day, and Darcy was waiting for him, with a bright smile. 

 

“Couldn’t let the baby duckling wander around alone on his first day,” she said with a laugh that echoed, earning a glare from the receptionist that Steve had started to realize didn't just dislike him; she was a bitch and hated everyone. She was definitely in the wrong line of work. 

 

Darcy went with him up to 78 where Mr. Stark’s and Ms. Potts’ offices were and introduced him to Natalie, a red-haired alpha, who turned out to be Ms. Potts’ assistant. When Darcy went to leave, Steve was tempted to ask her to stay. Natasha was… intense. Something about her eyes. He kept the words back and smiled when Darcy told him to find her when he went to lunch, throwing a “Nice suit!” over her shoulder on the way to the elevator. 

 

The fact that he was nervous seemed to amuse Natalie, whom he shadowed all day, and by the time he left the building at five, he took what felt like his first deep breath all day. Instead of going straight home, Steve found a bench in Bryant Park and sketched the trees until the October wind made his hands too cold. He would need to remember his gloves tomorrow. 

 

He went home, made dinner, then wrapped himself up in three blankets and fell asleep, feeling lonelier than he had in months. He felt a little better when he woke up at 4am, well before his alarm went off, and decided to write Bucky a letter to kill time until he had to leave for work. 

 

He told him about the new job, his coworkers, another anecdote about the older couple he rented his apartment from, who argued a lot about dumb things like not putting the cap back on the toothpaste and loading the dishwasher wrong. He didn’t tell Bucky how much he missed him because there wasn’t anything Bucky could do about it. And his best friend already knew anyway. 

 

The day Bucky had left for basic had been tough for his mom and his older sister. Bucky had struggled to leave his family (Steve included) and the only home he’d ever known and Steve had been sad to know he wouldn’t see his best friend everyday like he was used to. But he still had his mom and their apartment in Flatbush and he was applying to colleges to attend after he graduated high school. 

 

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back,” Bucky had told him outside of airport security at JFK after hugging his mom and sister goodbye. 

 

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” The joke fell as flat as his smile. 

 

Bucky had pulled him into a hug. “You’ll be fine, punk.” 

 

“I know I will, jerk.” He hugged Bucky hard, but pulled back when he felt tears burning the back of his eyes, and gave him a shove toward the TSA line. “Show ‘em what Brooklyn’s made of.” 

 

“You know it,” he says with a crooked smile and a half-assed salute, then shouldered his bag. Steve waited with Bucky’s family until they couldn’t see him anymore. 

 

It had been hard, but Steve had been okay. He had even been okay when his mom was sick. Not okay okay, because his mom was  _ sick _ and he was working extra, had given up on the idea of school, and nothing was easy, but she was still there. After she died, he couldn’t pretend to be okay anymore. 

 

Omegas craved connections with others. It was instinct to not want to be alone, harkening back to hunter gatherer days when being alone meant you didn’t survive and you had no help caring for your kids. It didn’t mean all omegas were good at it, though. And, sure, they were evolved now and not driven solely by instinct, but Steve had never found forming those bonds easy with anyone else but Bucky. And it had been hard being alone those first few months after she passed. 

 

Steve was awkward and shy. Being sick so much as a kid hadn’t helped. Neither had getting into fights. Steve just hated bullies and couldn’t stand by while someone else was being hurt, but no one seemed to appreciate his interference. Before his asthma got under control, he had missed a lot of school because he needed nebulizer treatments. He had to wear a brace for his scoliosis, then needed surgery when that didn’t fix it. His mom had to get another job to pay for the medical bills cause his dad had been gone by then. 

 

So, Steve was terrible at making friends. His first week at SI, though, he ate lunch with Darcy everyday and wrote about their conversations in his letter to Bucky that he dropped in the mailbox on Saturday. He did not, however, in all that time, see Mr. Stark once. 

 

Ms. Potts had talked to him that first day and mentioned how Stark tended to get lost in his work, sometimes neglecting food and sleep, sounding frustrated. It had been on the tip of his tongue to ask if that was what ended their relationship, but he never did. He remembered her words from the day of his interview.  _ Tony is… today is a bad day.  _ He wondered if his “bad days” were what had done it. He didn’t ask that either. 

 

Steve took messages for Stark and got good at reassuring people Stark would return their calls when he didn’t think that was true at all. He reviewed emails and had Natalie help him figure out which ones needed to be marked for Stark to see, until he figured it out on his own. 

 

He called Stark to let him know about meetings he needed to attend, had JARVIS remind him when he got sent to voicemail, only for the man to never show up. He helped Natalie set up conference rooms and got really good at using the coffee maker and making copies. 

 

By the end of his second week, it was well into November and he still hasn’t seen Stark and every time he tried to go to his workshop, JARVIS informed him that “Sir is unavailable and did not wish to be disturbed.” Steve came in, did what he could, sat in Bryant Park to sketch (with gloves, scarf and hat) until he got too cold, caught the D train home and repeated the process. 

 

Steve was getting fed up. Ms. Potts assured him multiple times that she would talk to Stark, but even that failed to help. She was getting as tired of it as Steve was. Especially since there was a fundraising event for one of the charities that SI donated to heavily and Mr. Stark was supposed to attend, but hadn’t said if he would one way or the other. Steve made sure Stark’s tuxedo was ready, just in case, and on Wednesday of his third week, Steve dropped it off in his room and then waited in the penthouse for Mr. Stark to show up. 

 

Steve was sitting on one of the couches, the lights dim, sketching the skyline  when Tony Stark walked off the elevator. He didn’t notice Steve at first, went straight to the bar and poured himself a drink. The thought that he looked tired struck Steve again. The alpha was leaning against the bar, cradling his head in his right hand. Stark heaved a sigh, pushed upright, and rounded the bar on the way to the sunken seating area. 

 

When he noticed Steve sitting on the couch, he yelped, clutching at his chest with his free hand. “The hell are you doing here?” 

 

Steve closed his sketchbook, setting it aside on the couch beside him. “You’ve been avoiding me. It was this or shimmying through an air vent into your workshop.” 

 

“J, we really need to work on your warning me there are people waiting to ambush me skills.” Stark paced to the wall of windows, looking out at the view Steve had been using as reference moments ago. He took a sip from his glass, free hand resting on his hip. Steve lips thinned, but he stayed quiet, waiting. His boss hadn’t thrown him out yet or left the room. That was something. 

 

“As you wish, sir,” the AI replied. 

 

“I’m the only one allowed to make pop culture references,” Tony told the AI, pointing at the ceiling with one finger of the hand holding his tumbler. Then he spun, pointing that finger at Steve instead. “And I’m not avoiding you. The only thing I avoid are my daddy issues. And Nickelback fans.” 

 

“Is everything a joke to you?” 

 

“Only when appropriate.” 

 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Why did you even hire me if you weren’t going to let me do my job?” 

 

“Am I not keeping you busy enough?” Stark took up residence in one of the chairs across from where Steve sat. He’s a bit jealous of the way the man can sprawl so elegantly. Steve is kind of gangly, all arms and legs. 

 

“I might not have any experience being a personal assistant, and I’m not a genius like you, but even I know it’s kinda hard to do when the person you’re supposed to be assisting won’t  _ talk to you _ .” This man was ridiculous. 

 

“You think I’m a genius?” Stark looked like a pleased alpha, puffed chest and all. 

 

“That’s not the point,” Steve sputtered. “Just answer my question. Why did you hire me?” 

 

“Pepper was pressuring me.” Stark liked to talk with his hands, they were always moving. It was like the man was incapable of stillness. He shrugged. “Might as well have been you.” 

 

“That’s crap. You don’t strike me as the type of person who does anything unless they want to, Mr. Stark.” The staring contest that ensued would go on forever if they let it and though Steve was stubborn as a mule, he was suddenly exhausted. If Stark wanted to act like an ass and pay him for a job he wasn’t doing, he wasn’t in a position at the moment to argue. As much as it pained him to admit, he still needed this job unless he wanted to go back to barely staying above water. His bills didn’t care about his pride. 

 

Steve looked away first, picking up his sketchbook and standing. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Stark,” he said, then winced. “Or not.” 

 

Stark didn’t say anything, but Steve felt the alpha’s eyes on the back of his head while he walked to the elevator. The doors opened when he reached them. “Thanks, JARVIS.” 

 

Steve got on and right before the doors closed he met Stark’s gaze. Stark could teach a class on brooding, the way he looked dressed in all black, sitting in the low light, a tumbler dangling negligently from his hand. “Don’t forget you have a charity gala on Friday. Your tux is in your closet.” 

* * *

On Thursday, Steve entered the lobby of Stark Tower, expecting it to be like any other day. Instead, he was met with Tony Stark striding purposely across the marble floor, and he was turned around by a hand between his shoulder. “Let’s go.” 

 

“What? Go where?” 

 

“Shh, shh.” Stark shushed him, pressing a finger to Steve’s lips, then wagging it in his face. Steve’s stared at him with wide eyes, resisting the urge to lick his lips from the feeling. Stupid alphas and their lack of boundaries. Or maybe it was just Tony Stark. “Patience you must have, my young padawan.” 

 

Steve rolled his eyes while he was ushered back outside, the wind creeping inside the collar of his coat since he had already taken his scarf off, making him shiver. Stark’s hand was still in between his shoulder blades, a point of warmth being branded into his skin. Steve didn’t get to dwell on it before Happy opened the back door to a black sedan, which Stark gave him no choice but to climb into. 

 

They were closed inside when Happy shut the door then got into the driver’s seat. “Take it away, Happy.” 

 

“Sure thing, Mr. Stark.”

 

Steve was trying not to fidget, sitting next to Stark in the back seat. They weren’t touching, an expanse of leather seat between them. Stark wasn’t even looking at Steve, eyes glued to his phone. Steve took the chance to look at him from the corner of his eye. 

 

This Tony Stark was one he hadn’t seen in person, dressed in a dark suit, a long wool coat and orange tinted sunglasses. This was the Tony Stark from the media, the Tony Stark who owned a billion dollar company. Not even working in the skyscraper this man owned had so clearly showed the difference in the worlds they occupied. 

 

He sighed, crossed his arms over his chest, fingers tapping against his bicep, while he stared out the window. Midtown traffic was crawling during the morning commute. Pedestrians filled the streets, on their way to work, some who looked like they were home from a night out mixed with tourists taking pictures. 

 

When the vehicle pulled to a stop, they were in front of a store on Madison Avenue. Happy opened the door, Tony climbed out without a word, and Steve followed after a slight hesitation. This was what he had asked for, wasn’t it? To actually do his job. A morning of shopping hadn’t been what he had in mind, but whatever; he could carry bags. 

 

Happy smiled and dipped his head at him when Steve stepped out onto the street. Steve smiled back and thanked him. Tony was standing by the front door, focus still on the phone. The other man tucked it into the inside pocket of his suit coat when Steve reached him.  

 

The store, Paul Stuart the sign above the door said, looked so high end Steve was afraid to touch anything once they walked inside. An army of sales people descended on them from out of nowhere. Or descended on Stark, more accurately, while completely ignoring Steve. Not that he minded. 

 

Except then he heard “He needs a tux,” and realized Stark was pointing at  _ him _ . 

 

“Why the hell do I need a tux?” Steve asked, aghast, in a whisper. 

 

“Good Catholic boy like you, swearing like that? For shame, Rogers.” He opened his mouth to say something about how he wasn’t such a good Catholic these days, but stuttered when he realized this was the first time Stark had said his name. He hadn’t even been sure Stark knew it, to be honest.

 

“And that charity… thing… is tomorrow. You can’t go looking like that.” The last word was said the same way a person might say, “You can’t shoot puppies.” Stark, unaware of his discomfort or the insult he had just thrown out, followed one of the sales people further into the store.

 

“What’s wrong with my suit?” Steve trailed after them, looking down at what he was wearing. He had picked up some dress pants and blazers at Target (since it was more in his price range after browsing at Macy’s the day after he got hired) once he got his first paycheck, but he was wearing the Macy’s suit today. 

 

“Besides the fact that it doesn’t even fit that well? The auction is black tie. They always are.” Stark turned, walking backwards while he talked. “And I have a reputation to uphold. Can’t have my assistant looking like they buy off the  _ rack _ .” 

 

Steve scowled at Stark’s mocking expression. “Why do I have to go anyway?” 

 

“That’s what assistants do. When their boss has to suffer through a boring evening at a charity event, so do they.” Stark shrugged, facing forward again when they stopped in the area outside the dressing rooms. He wandered around, looking at ties and cufflinks, picking things up only to put them back down. “You get to run inference, as it were. Get me out of conversations I don’t want to be having, which is all of them, and take business cards from people I’m never going to call back. I don’t like being handed things.” 

 

Okay, Steve… hadn’t known that. He filed it away. 

 

“Is Ms. Rushman going with Ms. Potts?” Steve asked, shoving his hands in his pockets for something to do. He was already resigned to going to this event because that was his job, go where Stark told him to (within reason). It was also kind of a work event, he guessed. Without even looking at a price tag, Steve knew there was no way he could afford a tux from this place, though. Stark paid him well, but not  _ that  _ well. 

 

He was working up a way to say that when a different sales person than the woman who brought them back here, came over holding a tux jacket and pants with a white shirt on fancy wooden hangers. The guy— a tall, slim omega dressed in a pair of gray slacks and a gray plaid blazer over a lavender shirt and a polka dot bowtie— spoke to Stark, not Steve, when he said, “This was the smallest size we had in stock, Mr. Stark, but I think it might still be too big for your… companion. I took the liberty of asking one of the tailors to come down.” 

 

“I’m his—” Steve started to correct whatever assumption the sales guy had, but Stark cut him off. 

 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine.” Stark took his jacket off, drapping it over the arm of one of the chairs against the wall, and sat. 

 

“Mr. Stark—” The other omega hung the items on a hook inside one of the rooms and basically shoved Steve inside when he resisted, closing the door in his face. Steve opened it back up and walked out. “Mr. Stark, I can’t afford this. If I need a tux, I can go rent one.” 

 

The sales person had a look of horror on his face at Steve’s pronouncement. Stark rolled his eyes. “You don’t need to worry about it; I’m paying. It’s not a big deal.” 

 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you buy me something like this.” 

 

“Something you need to learn about me, Rogers,” Stark said, leaning forward and taking off his sunglasses. “I don’t like being told I can’t do something.” 

 

“And I don’t like charity,” Steve snapped. A staring contest ensued, their second in under 24 hours. Stark blinked first this time, when the sales guy nervously cleared his throat. 

 

“This isn’t charity.” Stark sat back, spreading his arms wide. He dropped one over the back of the chair, the other resting on his thigh. “My motives are self serving. Like I said: you look bad, I look bad. And,” he said cutting Steve off when he would have argued. “This won’t be the last black tie event I drag you to, Rogers. Renting a tux would be financially irresponsible. Plus if you put the claim in to the expense account, I’m basically paying for it anyway.” 

 

“You’re not going to drop this, are you?” Steve asked, sighing, but he already knew the answer. 

 

“Nope,” Stark said, overly cheerful. 

 

Steve felt his shoulders drop. He looked at the ceiling. Then he turned around and walked into the dressing room and shut the door behind him. He hadn’t turned down the phone and the tablet, right? If he thought about this tux like that, like something he needed to do his job, it was almost okay. And he hadn’t used the expense account, yet, but conceivably for something like this he  _ could.  _ He put the tux on. 

 

The shirt and suit hung on him like a kid playing in their parent’s closet. He had to leave the pants bunched at his legs and hold the waist up to keep them on. Steve made a face at himself in the mirror before stepping out. 

 

He would give it to Stark, at least the guy didn’t laugh. Steve stood still while the tailor, a kind older omega with thinning gray hair, stuck pins in the tux, then told him he could change. Steve changed back into his suit, only part way successful in not stabbing himself, and handed the garments to the tailor after he came back out. The tailor took the hanging items from him with an incline of his head. He turned to Stark. “These will be ready by tomorrow afternoon, Mr. Stark.” 

 

Stark made a sound the tailor took for agreement before leaving, not taking his eyes off his phone. A few moments later, Stark stood, grabbed his coat and said, “Let’s go.” 

 

Steve hurried to catch up to Stark’s longer strives. “Don’t you need to pay?” 

 

“Already did.” 

 

They walked in silence until they reached the door, where Stark paused to put on his coat. Steve bit his lip, vacillating, then out a hand on Stark’s arm before he could push the door open to leave. He jerked his hand back when Stark’s eyes flicked to where his fingers rested. “I— thanks. For the tux.” 

 

“You don’t need to thank me,” Stark said, looking down at him, his words sounding almost angry. They were standing so close, Steve had to tip his head back to meet the other man’s dark eyes. There was something burning in his gaze. Then Stark shrugged, breaking the moment. “I have more money than Daddy Warbucks, Annie.” 

 

Steve barked out a laugh before he could stop it and he swallowed the humor down, following Stark out into the cold. The comparison hit a little close to home since he was poor, both his parents were dead, and Stark might not have adopted him, but this job was saved him much the same. But it was still funny, not that he was going to say as much. “That’s— don’t— don’t call me Annie.” 

 

“No, you’re right, the hair is wrong.” Stark went to slide into the sedan when Happy opened the door. He paused, turning to look Steve up and down. “I don’t think you could pull the dress off, either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended at a different place than I thought it would, but this felt right for where the next chapter will go (or where I'm planning for it to go). Chapter 3 is going to be more from Tony's POV and include Steve and Tony in tuxes! Yay! 
> 
> Thanks again for reading! I really appreciate any kudos and comments.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot of Tony Freaking Out in this chapter. Cause let's be honest, no one freaks out better or with more panache than Tony Stark. 
> 
> I'm still slowly introducing characters. Two more show up. 
> 
> Also, there's a weird thing that happens in this chapter. Or not happens really, there's just a weird thing that comes up. I don't really think it's all that weird or unlikely, but other people might? I don't know. I write what I write. I have no control over most of this shit, to be honest. *shrugs*

The wiring Tony was soldering in the repulsor sparked, singeing his fingers. “Fuck.” 

 

He threw the soldering iron down on the workbench, and paced away, stabbing his fingers through his hair. The thing was toast, the electronics shorted out. And this was the one he was building to replace the one in the left hand gauntlet that blew up last week. The suit was almost done, but he couldn’t get it right— something kept malfunctioning. The uplink with JARVIS would get buggy, he’d fix that and then the weapons system wouldn’t work and then the flight capabilities crapped out because the repulsors weren’t working in sync. He had crashed into a few walls in the Malibu house before coming back to New York. 

 

He had built a suit in a cave in Afghanistan, when he was half dead, from  _ scraps _ . It hadn’t worked great, but it had worked. Allowed him to get away from his kidnappers before being found wandering in the desert. Why he couldn’t manage it now, he had no idea. 

 

_ “I think I’ll walk. If you don’t mind, Mr. Stark.”  _

 

No, scratch that, he did. Tony just didn’t want to think about it. Think about how royally he had stuck his foot in his mouth. He was used to pushing boundaries, reveled in it normally (it had been his main method of pissing off his dad), but he honestly hadn’t been trying to offend his new assistant. Not that much, at least. Not at that exact moment, either. 

 

“‘I don’t think you can pull the dress off ?’ What is wrong with me?” Tony groaned. And had he seriously touched his lips earlier? Just reached out and put his finger on them? Like they were friends or— nope, not going there. It had been inappropriate for so many reasons; even Tony knew that.

 

“My scans show all your vitals are well within normal range, sir,” JARVIS informed him.

 

“It was a rhetorical question, J.” Tony closed his eyes, bracing his hands on the workbench. He needed to fix this somehow. If Steve— he had taken to calling the omega ‘Steve’ in his head (seemed too personal to do it out loud)—quit what the hell would the kid (Oh, God, stop calling him a kid— he’s twenty-four, Tony! What were you doing at that age?) do then? 

 

It would solve his I-don’t-want-an-assistant problem, sure. Especially now that he was doing the whole suit thing. He had been placating Pepper by even entertaining the notion. He knew she was worried about him. So was Rhodey. And Happy, for that matter. He hadn’t been sleeping well, he did forget to eat, and… he was jumpy and he had nightmares, which didn’t help the not sleeping. He locked himself in his workshop for hours or days at a time trying to perfect the suit (which he hadn’t told anyone about). An assistant wouldn’t help with any of that, so what was the point? 

 

Tony hadn’t bothered with any of the other people Pepper had hired, hadn’t cared if he insulted them, hadn’t cared when they quit. Steve was… different somehow. 

 

Tony had been looking through all the files JARVIS could pull on him when Pepper was interviewing him: dead dad, best friend who seemed to be his only friend was an army sniper on his third tour in the Middle East, mom died after losing a battle with lung cancer, debt up to his eyeballs despite working two jobs, had to move out of the apartment he had lived in with his mom for his entire life. As much as Tony didn’t agree that he needed an assistant, reading all of that had caused pangs to even his cold, shriveled heart. 

 

He’d pretended not to listen to most of what Steve and Pepper had talked about, but he had in fact been paying attention. He had heard the wistful note in Steve’s voice when he mentioned art school, no matter how he played off that the decision not to go was no big deal. Tony had seen the applications. Steve would have gone… if his mom hadn’t gotten sick. The timing was too coincidental. 

 

It meant nothing for Tony to give him a job. He hadn’t even expected Steve to do much. Damn him for having a work ethic, for wanting to do his job  _ right _ . To care enough about getting paid too well to do busy work that he felt he needed to confront Tony about it. Seeing him curled up on his couch had been odd and when he left, looking resigned, had made Tony feel something he couldn’t even name, it was so unfamiliar. That on top of Pepper reading him the riot act about not utilizing his assistant the company was paying, had made him temporarily insane or something. 

 

_ “I think I’ll walk. If you don’t mind, Mr. Stark.”  _

 

Steve had been so polite. Tony wouldn’t have been surprised if the omega had told him to go fuck himself, would have expected it honestly from a guy that grew up in Brooklyn. Maybe that was his bias as someone who lived in a different borough talking, but either way Steve being polite just made it worse.  _ Oh, no, I don’t like being sexually harassed by my boss. Please and thank you.  _

 

Because that had to be it right? He took it as a come on. And maybe… it had been… a little? He didn’t even fucking know anymore. Something in Steve had seemed to break after he dropped that verbal bomb, before the younger man locked it away behind a politely indifferent mask. Steve was not unattractive, but despite his past exploits Tony didn’t want to fuck every pretty omega he came across and his employees were usually off limits (noted exception being Pepper). 

 

But either way Steve couldn’t have known that and Tony hadn’t set out to hit on him or whatever that stupid comment had ended up coming across as. He was an alpha, Steve was an omega, and there were plenty of alphas who would expect something from an omega… after spending a ridiculous amount of money on them. 

 

He was an ass. 

 

Hell, double standards existed. He forget sometimes because he’s not subjected to most of them— he’s rich, he’s male, he’s an  _ alpha _ . That’s like the winning combination, a get out of jail free card. It had literally gotten him out of jail more than once. Omegas have to be more careful. How many people had thought Pepper only got her job because she had slept with Tony? Not because she was brilliant and she worked harder than anyone he knew. How many people had high fived Tony when he and Pepper started dating, but whispered about Pepper behind her back? 

 

Tony went through a few Wing Chun techniques on the Muk Jong he kept in his workshop. It usually worked to center his mind, quiet his thoughts and burn off excess energy. Now, it was doing nothing but making him sweat. He kept at it, though, until his hands hurt. 

 

He didn’t regret the Buying Steve a Tux thing because as his assistant he would need to accompany Tony to events (if Tony wanted him to and if he actually decided to show up to things) and he couldn’t go to a black tie affair in an ill fitting, $100 suit from Macy’s (so, Tony had hacked his credit card information— it was hardly the worst thing he had ever done). He had been buying Pepper shoes even before they started dating; this wasn’t any different. 

 

Sure, he hadn’t  _ needed  _ to spend 3 grand on a tux (not including alterations). Or buy Steve new shoes, a belt, cufflinks and a bow tie (though he could argue that last one was kind of necessary cause tux), which Tony hadn’t even told Steve about. He would find out when they showed up at the office. Tony would have bought them at Paul Stuart, but Steve had tiny feet and they didn’t carry anything in a 7, nor had they had belts small enough. And the cufflinks… okay, he had definitely gone overboard buying cufflinks from Tiffany’s. He winced. 

 

He could afford it and spending that kind of money was like buying someone McDonalds (or so he assumed— he hadn’t eaten McDonalds since MIT when Rhodey told him the value menu was a college kid staple) for everyone else. But Steve had already balked at the tux without even knowing how much it cost. And he didn’t know Tony the way Pepper or Rhodey did. This was going to go over like a lead balloon. 

 

What he did regret was offending Steve. It hadn’t been his intention (he didn’t know what his intention had been, but that hadn’t been it). Intention didn’t always equal outcome, though. Tony knew that better than anyone. He had built weapons for SI to be used by the US armed forces, to protect their soldiers (and, okay, because he was good at it and he could). But Obie had taken those weapons, sold them to terrorists who then used them to kill citizens from their own country (amongst others). 

 

Hadn’t been his intention and he blamed himself for his involvement (however indirect), but it didn't matter what he had meant to do then. And it didn’t matter now. 

 

Pepper was going to kill him when she found out… probably make him take a sexual harassment seminar and he hated those. So boring and dry. Not that it was supposed to be fun. 

 

And speaking of Pepper— he looked down at the screen to his phone to see a call from her. Not that he needed to look to know it was her; her ringtone gave it away— Takin’ Care of Business by Bachman Turner Overdrive. This could not be good. His eyes slid shut. “Put the call through, J.” 

 

“Of course, sir.” 

 

“Tony.” Oh, god, he knew that tone. The What-the-hell-did-you-do-Tony tone. He was intimately acquainted with it. “Why did Happy tell me your assistant— the seventh one, Tony, the  _ seventh _ — decided to walk back to the office after he went with you to Paul Stuart this morning? What did you do?” 

 

“Why do you assume it was my fault?” Of course it was his fault. It usually was. 

 

“Because Happy told me you says something that made Steve upset.” 

 

Traitor. “I’m firing him.” 

 

“You’re not firing Happy.” He really wasn’t. He didn’t trust anyone else to run security for SI. He also didn’t trust anyone else to drive him anywhere besides himself. Or maybe Natalie, but she was busy making sure no one ever tried to hurt Pepper (it was total chance that she ended up being really good with a gun and could kick ass on top of being an assistant with great references). After Afghanistan, Tony may or may not have been a little (justifiably) paranoid. If he could have stuck a bodyguard on Rhodey he would have, but the Airforce would have frowned on that— or so Rhodey had told him. “So, what did you say to Steve?” 

 

Pepper being on a first name basis with his new assistant was not a good sign. It meant she liked him. She hadn’t been on a first name basis with the other six, even the ones who had asked her to (Pepper was the consummate professional— dating her boss notwithstanding). “I— it was— you know, it wasn’t that bad.” 

 

“Tony.” 

 

“It was a movie reference— you know how I love those, Pep— that maybe got a little out of hand.” 

 

“What. Did. You. Say?” 

 

Tony covered his eyes against the impending blow up. “I may have told him he wouldn’t look good in the Annie dress. After I called myself Daddy Warbucks and bought him a $3,000 tuxedo.” 

 

“Tony! Are you insane?” 

 

“For which part?” 

 

“All of it!” Tony heard Natalie’s voice in the background asking if Pepper was okay. “I’m fine, Nat. Tony just did something stupid.” 

 

“Ah,” he heard Natalie reply, then a door clicked shut. Tony would be offended at her easy acceptance of him doing stupid things, except he did have a history— backed up by YouTube videos, media outlets, and police reports. 

 

“You will make this right, Tony.” Pepper told him, her voice sounding like it was forced past gritted teeth. 

 

“He really did need the tux, Pep.” He felt compelled to defend himself at least a little. 

 

“Fix it, Tony.” Then the call ended. Well, she hadn’t disagreed with him about Steve needing the tux. So… there. 

 

How the hell was he supposed to fix this anyway? Pepper should know better than anyone his usual method to fix a problem was to throw money at it; she had dated him, after all. Tony dropped his head to the workbench with a thud. 

 

Tony pushed himself upright with a sigh and pulled the gauntlet back in front of him. He started pulling the fried hardware out. “Alright, J, let’s try this again.”

* * *

Tony called it quits hours later when the sun started to dip behind the horizon, the repulsor he was trying to install in the gauntlet finally seemed to work, and his eyes were burning. He would do a flight test tomorrow. Or, not tomorrow— Saturday. Tomorrow was the charity thing. With Steve. 

 

Well, not  _ with  _ Steve (didn’t even want to be thinking thoughts like that when there was a possibility of a sexual harassment suit), but they would be there, together, at the same time. That is if Steve didn’t quit before then. 

 

He was a mess. And he needed to get his shit together. 

 

So, of course, that meant he went down to Bruce’s lab to bother him. Bruce’s strange omega/overlaid by alpha presence was getting easier to handle, but it still threw Tony for a loop some days. Those gamma rays had really done a number— not the least being that The Other Guy was a giant green rage alpha trapped in a meek omega scientist’s body. Kind of explained how protective he was of Bruce, though. Aside from the sharing a body thing. 

 

When Tony walked through the door to Bruce’s lab, the other man looked up with a smile, his eyebrows raised above his glasses in curiosity. “Hey, Tony. What can I do for you?” 

 

“Nothing. Nothing.” He wandered around the lab, looking at beakers and test tubes and the readouts on the screens. He put his eye to one of the microscopes but jerked back. “What the hell is that? Don’t tell me,” he rushed to say when Bruce opened his mouth to answer. “I don’t think I want to know.” 

 

Bruce took his glasses off to clean them on the edge of the button down under his white lab coat. Instead of putting them back on, though, he placed them on the stainless steel table he was seated at. “What do you want, Tony?” 

 

“I can’t just come down here to see my friend?” He half turned, gesturing between the two of them while he talked. 

 

“No,” is Bruce’s simple answer. 

 

Tony hopped up on the table, his back facing Bruce and looked at him over his shoulder.  “I’m hurt, Bruce. I really am.” 

 

“No, you’re not.” Bruce propped his elbows on the table, clasping his hands. “Did something happen?” 

 

He opened his mouth, closed it again. Blew out a breath. Stared at the wall. “I…” He drummed his fingers against the edge of the table. “I said something stupid.” 

 

“Okay,” Bruce said, succinctly. 

 

Tony looked at him over his shoulder again, frowning. “Does everyone have to be so quick to accept me saying stupid things? I am a genius, you know.” 

 

“I do, I do know that, Tony.” Bruce nodded his head. “You have more PhDs than almost anyone I know. But being intelligent doesn’t save you from doing something ill advised.” His friend shrugged, gave him a crooked smile. “I’m personally acquainted with that fact.” 

 

Bruce has conducted experiments on himself that left him with The Other Guy (they really needed to trademark that) and lost him his old life. His career, his girlfriend Betty. The government was still looking for him. Tony had given him a lab and a floor of the Tower to live in, a safe place for him to hide out, after Bruce reached out when he was on the run. 

 

They had met years ago, by chance, at some function they both wound up at. Tony with his government contacts and Bruce dating the alpha daughter of a general. How Bruce had even thought to contact him or even thought he would help (Tony barely remembered meeting Bruce, being more drunk than sober those days) he didn’t know, but he had and Tony was grateful for his friendship, his calming presence (ironic considering) everyday. 

 

“There was an incident with my new assistant.” 

 

“Steve?” 

 

Tony’s head whipped around. “You know him?” 

 

“Not personally. Nat mentioned him. Said he seemed like a nice kid.” 

 

Tony kept forgetting that those two had a thing. They weren’t dating, but there was enough sexual tension between the two of them to fill a room. Tony didn’t get it, they seemed so different, but he didn’t need to. Whatever floats their boat. Opposites attract and all that. 

 

“He is; nice that is.” Too nice, maybe. Except Tony didn’t really believe that, did he? He was polite, sure, but he was also a stubborn shit and had a sarcastic streak that Tony had only caught glimpses of. Maybe that had lulled him into a false sense of security, made his tongue lose. Or the almost-argument they had had the night before in his living room. He wasn’t making excuses, but Tony hated mysteries. He wanted to know why he was so off balance around Steve.

 

Bruce didn’t say anything, let Tony talk in his own time. “I said something that came across wrong, or maybe I didn’t say what I meant exactly how I meant it. I don’t even know anymore. And I hate not knowing things.” 

 

“What did you say?” Tony caught Bruce’s frown when he folded one of his knees up on the table so he could see Bruce better and stop the crick in his neck.

 

He told Bruce what happened, from their conversation last night to the events of this morning, until he got to the exchange outside. He remembered Steve’s laugh, pulled from him, unbidden. It had sounded rusty, like he hadn’t laughed in a while. “I think my exact words were, ‘You’re right, the hair is wrong. And I don’t think you could pull the dress off either.’” 

 

It didn’t sound that bad in the retelling. Really, it didn’t. But, god, the look on Steve’s face… 

 

“Oh, Tony.” Bruce looked pained and made a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat. “Honestly, though, you’ve done worse.” 

 

“Right? Pepper is blowing this out of proportion— wait. What do you mean, I’ve done worse?” Bruce shoot him a look that is completely unimpressed. “Fine, you’re right. I can admit when I’m wrong. Sometimes. Maybe. On the rare occasion it happens.” 

 

“Tony.” Just that. Just his name. It’s not negative in any way, it’s not judgmental. It’s just Bruce trying to patiently get him back on track.

 

Tony rubbed his eyes, ran his hand over his beard. “Pepper said I need to fix it.” He didn’t say that he had thought the same thing. 

 

“She’s right, Tony, you do. There’s a reason why you have her running your company.” Bruce looked at him with sympathy that’s tempered with humor. 

 

“More importantly, you know you do. And you want to.” Damn Bruce for knowing him so well. “But you do realize that means you’ll have to talk to him. You might even need to apologize.” 

 

“Shut your dirty mouth.” It’s half hearted at best, though. He can do quadratic equations in his head and build a suit in a cave to get himself out of captivity, but talking to people when it doesn’t involve snark or puns has never been his strong suit. He’s not even doing that well at the moment. 

 

Bruce knows Tony is going to do it. His smile is gentle, though, even while he says, “Now get out of my lab. I have work to do.” 

 

“No respect, I tell ya,” was Tony’s parting quip. 

* * *

When he was in the private elevator, Tony asked JARVIS if Steve is still in the building. “He left an hour ago, Sir.” 

 

“Did he go home?” He crossed his arms and waited, not sending the elevator car up or down. 

 

There was a pause. “Camera footage in the area shows him leaving the tower and entering Bryant Park, but I cannot locate him leaving again from any of the available footage of the access points. I also cannot find him entering the subway, which appears to be his preferred mode of transport.” 

 

So, there was a good chance he was still in the park. Tony went upstairs to grab his coat. What the hell was he doing there for so long, if he was there at all? And it was getting late— it had to be almost dark out if it wasn’t already. 

 

And, okay, that was a ridiculous thought. Like he had to protect the poor omega? Steve was… well, he probably fell over if you coughed on him, but he didn’t need Tony to look after him. It wasn’t even Tony’s responsibility.  _ Isn’t that why you gave him the job?  _ No, that had been… pity? Not that exactly. Something less insulting—not alpha posturing, though. It wasn’t that. 

 

Steve was his employee and before that just a guy down on his luck that Tony felt sorry for. Okay, so pity. Whatever. 

 

He scowled while he bundled himself into his coat. This is crazy. He would just wait until tomorrow, like a normal person. Apologize (or something) then.

 

Except that’s not what he did. Of course it isn’t. He was outside, breath fogging the night air, with a beanie pulled low over his head hoping no one recognized him. The walk didn’t take long, just go with the flow of pedestrian traffic— 42nd to 5th, trying to not let people touch him too much.

 

Tony almost missed him. He had gone right around the library, walked the length of the park, around the fountain (which is sort of pretty; had he ever actually been here before?), and was on his way back up the other side. Steve was sitting at a little, green table, tucked in at the side of the carousel. 

 

The carousel was lit up against the coming gloom. There were laughing kids and parents, groups of teens taking selfies, riding around. People standing outside the gate snapping pictures. 

 

Steve was hard to spot past the crowd. Head down, looking up occasionally, hand moving. He’s drawing, Tony thought. Made sense since he had been planning on art school. Tony wondered if he’s any good. Then figured he’ll find out as he maneuvered through the small crowd and sat in the empty chair at Steve's table. 

 

Steve looked up, big blue eyes, hair windswept, the tip of his nose red. His lips parted, he blinked, then he seemed to shake himself and straightened. “Uh, hi, Mr. Stark.” 

 

He sounded unsure, like it’s a question. This was not a good plan, ambushing him like this, but Tony had felt— what? Desperate? No, that was too much. Compelled? Better, marginally, but still not right. He had just needed to make it right before he talked himself out of it. “Hey,”  _ Steve  _ was on the tip of his tongue (he really needed to stop that), “Rogers.” 

 

“Steve is fine, Mr. Stark.” Shit. Damnit. That wasn’t helping.  _ Helping what, exactly?  _ Steve shrugged one shoulder and started putting his pencils back in their case— neatly, with precision. “Everyone else at work does.” 

 

“Uh, fine. Great. Steve it is.” Don’t tell him he can call you Tony. Maintain a professional distance. It was different him calling Steve Steve than Steve calling him Tony; it just was. Right? “So…”

 

Steve looked up at him again, brows raised, waiting. Tony wasn’t sure what to say. Tapped his fingers against the table top. A furrow formed between Steve’s eyes, eyebrows still raised. “So…?”

 

_ Bite the bullet, Stark.  _

 

“So, about this morning…” I’m sorry lodged in his throat. 

 

Steve started speaking before Tony could figure out how to finish his sentence. “Don’t worry about it. Really, Mr. Stark, it was— I— can we just forget it?” 

 

He wanted to say ‘Yes! Of course!’ But Steve looked so uncomfortable, not meeting his eyes anymore, starting to pack things in his bag. He felt like the worst kind of scum. What he said instead was, “What I said… I didn’t mean— I wasn’t trying to insult you, or anything.” 

 

“I know that. I do. I mean, it was a bad joke. Not even a little funny.” Steve groaned and dropped his head in his hands, elbows resting on the table. Tony was left looking at the top of Steve’s tawny head, surrounded by the sounds of people having a good time. He wasn’t even tempted to argue that his joke was a _ little  _ funny… maybe a little.

 

When Steve lifted his head, his arms dropped, landing with the dull thump when they hit his sketchbook. The look he gave Tony was ernest, open. “It was just a lot, you know, the tux, the other stuff—which showed up this afternoon, by the way. How did you even get that stuff to ship that fast? And Tiffany’s? Jesus, Mary and—”

 

His head went back in his hands and Tony winced. Yeah. Yeah, he’d known that wasn't going to pan out. Ten out of ten would not recommend buying $350 cufflinks for your assistant. He was over the top; sue him. 

 

“I have more money than I could spend in three lifetimes—and that’s after the company stock dropping when we got out of weapons. It’s not a big deal to me.” 

 

“It is to me,” Steve insisted. “It seems like a waste, Mr. Stark. It really wasn’t necessary.” 

 

“I told you—”

 

“That you have a reputation to uphold,” Steve interrupted. “I know. And I get it. I don’t have the budget to live up to your fashion standards and you don’t want to be embarrassed.” 

 

“That’s not—”

 

Steve interrupted Tony again and he frowned. “Maybe if you had warned me, I would have been better prepared.” 

 

“Well, you did ambush me in my penthouse,” Tony pointed out, like they’re in middle school and trying to outdo each other. He felt victorious, though, because one corner of Steve’s mouth curled up. Goddamnit, that wasn’t what he meant to say. “What I meant by ‘it’s not a big deal’ is just that. I buy people things. I started buying Pepper Louboutins every time I said something idiotic less than a year after she started working for me so she wouldn’t quit.” 

 

“She really does have nice shoes,” Steve mumbled.

 

“Thanks,” Tony said with a smile that dropped off quickly. “Look, that worked for Pepper and I. I guess I’m just use to it. If it makes you uncomfortable, I can stop.” That was as close to an apology for the-spending-money thing Steve was going to get and he seemed to realize it, staring Tony down for moment before rolling his eyes. 

 

“I did need the tuxedo, apparently. My boss is apparently making me hobnob with the rich and famous.” He was joking, a smile curving his lips, and Tony liked it, appreciated it a lot. He liked people who joke. They’re great. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.” 

 

 “Don’t sweat it. I mean it. Just… tell me if i'm overstepping,” he stressed. 

 

“I will. But, seriously, warn me next time, if you get the urge? I don’t like surprises. extravagant gifts aren’t much my style either.”

 

“Deal and duly noted.” He folded his arms on the table, leaned forward a little. “About the other thing—”

 

Steve was nervous again and Tony wished he hadn’t brought it up again. “I didn’t care about what you said. Not really.” His words are a bit stilted. “Just something my dad used to say, it reminded me of that.” 

 

Tony knew how this story ends, not the specific details, but he knew it. Howard had been disappointed in him too many times while he was growing up to not recognize it in someone else. “You don’t—”

 

Steve waved a hand, cutting him off again, but this time Tony didn’t care all that much. Steve was quiet for tense moments. “He was a traditional guy, didn’t like having to tell his alpha buddies that his only kid was an omega. A sick one at that. It wasn’t that bad though, at first. He had a temper, is all. He… when he started drinking, he hit my mom sometimes, sometimes he would just yell at her or yell at me. He really liked, ‘Might as well just put him in a dress, Sarah. What’s the difference?’”

 

“Goddamnit.” Tony couldn’t have known that. There was no way, but he felt guiltier anyway. He had fucked up, but not because Steve thought he was picturing him in a dress is some sort of Annie fetish fantasy. It was because of something he hadn’t know had happened.

 

“I shouldn’t have told you that.” Steve had his head tipped back, hand covering his eyes. His face was scrunched up and Tony almost laughed cause it was adorable. 

 

He needed to do something to dispel the tension. It was making him twitchy. “Nah, I’m glad you did. And, hey, if anyone understands disapproving father’s, it’s me.” 

 

“Your dad…?” 

 

“Oh, yeah, total disappointment to the old man.” 

 

Not many people knew about him and Howard, how awful their relationship had been, especially towards the end. They hadn’t ever gotten passed it before his parents died. They had their moments; he didn’t hate Howard. Maybe he had a bit when he was younger, but not now. If it wasn’t for his dad, Tony would be dead after all. He hadn’t been a complete dick and apparently wasn’t completely disappointed in Tony, but Steve’s dad just sounded like an asshole. 

 

“How? You went to MIT at 15, you have how many PhDs? Only thing I was good at when I was that age was not breathing and walking hunched over.” 

 

“Mm, well, there’s no accounting for bad taste.” Tony reached over and grabbed the sketchbook that hadn’t been put away with the rest of his things yet. “What’s this?”

 

“Give that back.” Steve made an unsuccessful bid to retrieve the sketchbook by lunging. Tony’s arms were just longer. Plus he leaned back in his chair, holding it back farther and tipping it toward the light to get a better look. He turned his head this way and that studying it. 

 

“It’s not done yet,” Steve told him. 

 

Steve had captured the carousel, the face of a laughing child. Some of the pencil was smudged, but the detail was intricate. He didn’t know a lot about art. Pepper bought things for his “collection,” but he barely noticed when she switched pieces around the penthouse out. Or their old apartment, where he didn’t go anymore. 

 

“It’s good. I’m not an art connoisseur like Pepper, but I can tell that it’s good.” Tony handed the book back. Steve hugged it to his chest before carefully closing it and slipping it into his bag. 

 

“Thanks.” There was a blush creeping up his neck, staining his cheeks, that Tony could just make out in the waning light. “I’m out of practice.” 

 

They lapsed into silence. Tony watched as a couple strolled by, a child’s hands held safely between her alpha mom and omega dad, squealing giggles when they lifted her up to let her feet swing. He had to look away, something right in his chest, and he rubbed his hand against where the ARC reactor sat. 

 

“How did you find me, anyway?” Steve’s voice made him jolt. 

 

“JARVIS checked all the cameras in the area,” he told him, still distracted. 

 

“Oh, I thought maybe you tracked my phone or something.” Tony turned, saw the flush on the omega’s cheeks deepen. 

 

“That…” He wagged his head back and forth. Steve didn’t appear to know much about computers. He probably watched tv shows that made it look easy like everyone else in the country. Sure he could have hacked into the GPS, or had JARVIS do it, but honestly he hadn’t even thought about it. He didn’t want to make Steve feel dumb, though. “Could have worked. Not what I did, though.” 

 

“Right.” The silence got awkward and Steve took a breath. “We’re good, right?” 

 

“Yeah. If you are, I am,” Tony said because what else is there to say? He had pulled this stalker move (in hindsight, it was looking a little creepy) to make sure Steve didn’t quit. 

 

“I’m gonna head home then, it’s getting late.” Steve grabbed his bag and stood, tightening his scarf. 

 

“Me, too,” Tony said, pushing to a stand himself and shoving his hands in the pockets of his coat. 

 

Steve slipped the strap of his bag over his head and smiled, but it was awkward as hell. He was shifting on his feet. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Stark.” 

 

It sounded almost like a question and the urge to reassure him was so strong he almost staggered. “Yes. Of course. We have the charity thingy tomorrow, too. Be prepared to be bored out of your skull.” 

 

Some of the awkwardness dissipated, and Steve smiled, a real one this time with a little nod. Sarcasm laced Steve’s voice when he said, “Can’t wait. Have a good evening, Mr. Stark.” 

 

They went their separate ways, Tony heading back to his Tower and Steve heading back to Brooklyn. Halfway home, Tony started to panic. A little. Just panic a little. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “JARVIS, call Rhodey.” 

 

“Hey, Tones. What’s up.” The beautiful bastard. He was so happy to hear his voice. He could talk to Pepper or Bruce, get an omega’s point of view.  He didn’t think either one of them would get it. He needed another alpha, one who might understand what he was feeling. Rhodey had been his best friend since MIT. Tony could count on him to tell it to him straight. 

 

He headed to the private elevator in the parking garage, not wanting to deal with anyone who might still be in the lobby. He tried not to sound as desperate as he felt, and didn’t think he succeeded. “Rhodey, I think I have a problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, tuxes didn't happen yet. This chapter took a bit of a turn from what I thought was going to happen. The Bruce and Tony chat was a surprise to me. Tuxes will show up next chapter, alone with Natasha and Pepper in pretty dresses. :D 
> 
> I'm going to keep working on this fic, it seems to be my go to thing to do when I can't sleep, which has been happening a lot lately. But just a heads up, July is going to be busy for me. On top of school, I have some minor medical procedures I need done and I don't know how I'm going to react to them. I don't foresee a problem occuring, but school will supersede fic writing if it comes down to it. 
> 
> Thanks for the comments and kudos! I really do appreciate them. n_n


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony starts having naughty thoughts.
> 
> Justin Hammer is a dick. 
> 
> Rando made up character who you don't really need to pay attention to lol
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Tony fiddled with one of his cufflinks, while he paced in his room, remembering the conversation with Rhodey from the night before. Maybe he was also hiding a bit because the current object of his apparent, and logic defying, obsession was getting dressed in one of the guest rooms of the penthouse. That had been one of his more brilliant ideas. 

 

“You’re not going to like what I think, man.” Rhodey had said. 

 

He hadn’t. In fact, Tony had all but scoffed at it, refused to believe that Rhodey could have been right. He called Rhodey because he was an alpha and his best friend and Tony had always counted on the other man to give it to him straight. He hadn’t disappointed this time any more than he had any time before. The difference was that he hadn’t been willing to listen. 

 

If Tony had, if he had even entertained that what Rhodey said was a possibility, it would mean admitting other things he didn’t want to think about were happening. That everything that happened in Afghanistan and after with Obie had affected him more than he wanted to acknowledge— Classic avoidance. That despite how smart he was, he couldn’t just get over it; couldn’t escape reliving the events whether he was asleep or awake. 

 

Tony had been in a military hospital after Rhodey found him wandering in the desert. Not for long, they couldn’t keep him there, he hadn’t wanted to stay, and as soon as he was cleared to be moved he went home, wanting to be closer to Pepper, Happy, familiar things— even fucking Obie. God, had that been a mistake. 

 

But while the military docs had him, they’d sent in a shrink to talk to him. Standard procedure they told him. The woman had been nice, but Tony didn’t want to be reminded of what had happened— his captivity, the torture, Yinsin. He hadn’t taken her words seriously at the time, but they were always in the back of his mind. Warning him of the side effects of the trauma he suffered. 

 

He knew he was suffering from PTSD, probably anxiety, definitely been some periods of depressed moods, he didn’t need to be a genius to figure that out. Plus there was Google. Pushing Pepper away, how jumpy he was, the nightmares, not sleeping. The fact that his concentration had been so blown to hell, it took a  _ year _ to even get a working prototype of the suit (of course, that was partly the palladium poisoning, too). It should have been child’s play for him, but he’d struggled. 

 

But what that army psychologist hadn’t told him? Was that after tanking one relationship, with a woman he loved, he’d develop some irrational attachment to a stranger, an omega he didn’t know, who now worked for him. 

 

It didn’t feel irrational, for how out of character he was acting. Tony had thought Steve was attractive the first time he saw him, cracks about his age aside. And he was starting to like him now that he was actually spending time with him, even though that hadn’t been his brightest idea, in a long line of not bright ideas. 

 

_ “Do I have to worry? Am I… am I dangerous to him or…?”  _

 

_ “It doesn’t change who you are on a fundamental level,” Rhodey said, but he didn’t sound sure. “Your protective instincts get amplified, from what I understand with the imprinting— that’s what it’s called. I’m not an expert. Though, Tones, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be concerned. I still think you should talk to someone.”  _

 

_ “I’ll think about it,” he told him before hanging up.  _

 

Tony knew Rhodey had a point, but he had the worry a therapist would suggest distance, in the form of firing Steve, and Tony didn’t want to fire Steve. Which was part of the problem, yeah, but it wasn’t Steve’s fault that Tony had overactive hormones and mental issues. He didn’t deserve to get penalized because Tony was a mess and... he needed this job. That was the cycle his thoughts were currently caught in. 

 

It couldn’t all be hormones, right? His head couldn’t be so screwed up that he couldn’t even tell if he genuinely liked Steve? 

 

Tony had dived back into actual work for SI today and dragged Steve with him while he made the rounds on the R&D floors. Taking notes to send to the teams, while Tony rattled things off at lightning speed, and fetching him coffee. Tony had mostly kept the coffee flowing because he liked it too much when Steve rolled his eyes any time Tony handed him his empty mug without a word. All the excess caffeine was still making him jittery. Worth it. 

 

He almost didn’t recognize himself and, yeah, Rhodey was… probably right that he needed to be concerned. Today had been proof of that. The little smiles that curved his lips when he caught Steve’s wide eyed looks of wonder when he saw some new piece of tech. The way he stood closer to Steve when they were around other alphas and casually positioned himself in between them and Steve. The purr he had choked on when Steve came back from lunch with a sandwich for Tony because “I figured you weren’t going to eat.” 

 

Of course he hadn’t. Tony had been up to his elbows in the innards of a prototype, ripping it apart because he knew he could make it work better, while the team that had been working on it looked on in horror. But still it shouldn’t have made him want to purr and preen like a caveman alpha. It was a nice gesture at best and ass kissing at worst. Steve wasn’t his omega, wasn’t taking care of his alpha. He was just doing his damn job. 

 

Steve didn’t feel the same way about Tony that he felt about Steve. Hell, Tony might have thought this couldn’t all be caused by PTSD, but wasn’t that the point? It was supposed to feel real, his brain trying to compensate for all the shit he had been through. Give him something else to focus on, maybe, something nice— like a soft, pretty omega who liked to draw kids on merry go rounds in the park.  

 

Later—he would think about it later. He and Steve were supposed to meet Pepper and Natalie in the garage where Happy waited with the limo in ten minutes. He couldn’t hide in his room anymore.

 

Tony headed out to the living room just as Steve came out of the guest room and almost swallowed his tongue. Steve should always wear this tux; he should never not wear it. Tony let his eyes run up and down Steve’s lithe body encased in black wool. 

 

The tailor was a fucking genius. Tony needed to hire him to make all of Steve’s clothes. Move him into the tower. The guy could live here forever. And if that sounded a little insane, because Steve wasn’t his, anyone who saw him in this suit wouldn’t fault Tony his dreams. 

 

What had once engulfed the omega now skimmed planes and hugged gentle curves. The jacket was open, framing the way the slim cut pants nipped in at his waist. Tony could just see how the fabric followed the swell of his ass and it was giving him ideas.  _ Danger, Will Robinson. Danger!  _

 

Tony might not be operating at hundred percent where Steve was concerned, but he was clear headed enough to know popping wood in front of employees was  _ bad _ . He shook his head and realized Steve was speaking. “Hm? What?” 

 

“Could you help?” 

 

“Huh?” He was reduced to monosyllabic responses since all the blood hadn’t made its way back to his brain. 

 

“The bow tie,” Steve said, a furrow forming between his brows. Tony being at a loss for words was concerning. The length of cloth in Steve’s raised hand was dangling from his graceful fingers. “I’ve, uh, never worn one before.” 

 

“Not even to prom or something?” Tony asked, eyebrows climbing. He approached Steve slowly, like Steve was a wild animal, when it was Tony who was the unpredictable one.  _ It doesn’t change who you are on a fundamental level.  _ Tony wanted to believe that Rhodey was right, but he wasn’t convinced he was a good man. He definitely was a selfish one. If Tony touched him and Steve gave him an inch, he would take a mile.  

 

“Never went,” Steve mumbled. Tony took the tie from him, avoiding contact with Steve’s skin. But he couldn’t resist tipping Steve’s chin up with one of his knuckles. The satin of the tie was smooth against his fingers, but it had nothing on Steve’s skin. Tony had to close his eyes, slow his breathing, while he looped the bow tie around Steve’s neck. 

 

“Bucky and I were planning on going, a double date thing. To Bucky’s senior prom, when I was a junior. He was going with his girlfriend, but I needed a date cause you couldn’t go stag and,” Steve trailed off, finished with a shrug. 

 

“You couldn’t get a date?” He couldn’t keep the incredulity from his voice. It was unfathomable to him. He couldn’t have looked much different then. Who wouldn’t want a cute blonde haired, blue eyed omega on their arm? Tony had missed out on things like prom skipping so many grades and then going to college at fifteen. But if he had gotten to participate in all those juvenile landmarks, Tony would have jumped at the chance to ask someone like Steve. 

 

Steve laughed and standing so close together, with his eyes on where his hands made quick work of the bow tie, Tony could see the vibrations of his slender throat, the movement of his Adam’s apple. His smile was fond and Tony felt a brief stab of irrational jealousy before Steve’s words registered. “No, it wasn’t that. My mom, she insisted on meeting who I wanted to go with, but as soon as Brock showed up at our apartment, she slammed the door in his face and told me no.” 

 

“Smart lady,” he said under his breath. Steve heard him, though, shooting him a look that was both confused and amused. He didn’t look mad, so Tony will take it. “I just mean, teenage alphas are only after one thing.” 

 

“What makes you think he was an alpha?” Tony’s head snapped back, his hands falling to his sides. Same designation pairings were more common now a days but not accepted everywhere. Steve hadn’t struck him as the type… and he was joking. Steve was biting his lip to hold his laughter in, but as soon as the scowl settled on Tony’s face, he gave up. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist. Oh, God, your face.” 

 

“Oh, you think you’re funny.” Steve smirked, give him a one shouldered shrug. “Let’s go, George Carlin.” 

 

“Who?” Tony did a double take, pausing misstep on the way to the elevator. 

 

“Are you trying to make me feel old on purpose?” When Steve shook his head as he picked up his tablet from the console table outside the elevator, Tony groaned. “Forget it, let’s just go. Pepper gets upset when people are late.” 

 

The two men stood in silence while the elevator descended, Tony with his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels, until Steve said, “Thank you, by the way.” 

 

“Hm?” Tony kept his eyes on the doors, watching their reflection. 

 

“For all of this.” Steve gestured to himself. “I really do appreciate it. I probably would have looked completely out of place in any of the clothes I own. It’s just really a lot for a poor guy from Brooklyn. You don’t know how to do anything halfway do you?” 

 

“Don’t sweat it.” He tried to sound nonchalant. Added a shrug for effect. “I have a lot of money and I,”  _ like to show my affection with gifts _ , “like buying people things. Think of it like an early Christmas bonus.” 

 

“That… actually makes it a little easier. Thank you, Mr. Stark. I appreciate you giving me this job, too. I know I still have a lot to learn—”

 

Tony cut him off, holding up a hand. “Don’t thank me. This time next week you’ll be cursing me for hiring you because I can be a son of a bitch.” 

 

“Anyway,” Steve didn’t sound convinced and wasn’t that just adorable. “Where did you get this stuff anyway? This is literally the nicest belt I’ve ever seen in my life and these shoes should not be this comfortable.” 

 

“Uh, Brooks Brothers, Allan Edmunds… the cufflinks are from Tiffany’s.” Tony coughed when he said the last store hoping beyond hope that Steve doesn’t catch it. He, maybe, hadn’t heard of the other stores, but everyone knows Tiffany’s. Thanks, Audrey Hepburn. It was the reason Tony had specifically asked them not to put the cufflinks in that signature blue box. And he’d spent enough money there over the years that they bent over backwards for him. He should have lied, Tony was good at lying, but it had seemed beyond him. 

 

Steve’s eyes widened, looking at Tony with something akin to horror. He sounded choked when he asked, “How much did all of this cost?”

 

“You don’t want to know.” 

 

“I really hope I don’t spill anything on this,” Steve said, talking more to himself looking over his reflection in the elevator doors like he thought a tear will have mysteriously appeared. The way he was twisting and turning to look at different angles was pulling the fabric of the tuxedo tighter in places Tony really shouldn’t be paying attention to. 

 

“That’s what dry cleaning is for,” Tony said, turning his head to cough into his fist. When the doors opened up to the underground parking garage Tony rushed out faster than he needed to. Happy straightened from his lean against the limo, opening the door when Tony and Steve approached. “The girls already inside?” 

 

“Sure are, boss.” 

 

Tony slapped Happy on the shoulder and slid inside. When Steve settled beside him, Tony was grateful the bench seat was so wide because it’s the only place to sit unless he wanted to make it super awkward by squeezing in between Pepper and Natalie. He stretched his arm across the back of the seat, tapping his fingers. Not because he was trying to have a plausible reason to brush against Steve’s hair. Cause that would be weird. “You look lovely, Pepper. Who are you wearing, Dior?” 

 

“Valentino,” Pepper corrected, rolling her eyes. She really did look beautiful in the white, off the shoulder sheath. The slit up one side stopped mid-thigh, showcasing her long legs. “You paid for it.” 

 

“I have impeccable taste.” The fact that they can still banter was another thing Tony was grateful for. He had worried when their romantic relationship ended that would be the end of their friendship as well. There’s a level of intimacy between them now that wasn’t there before (they couldn’t pretend they never slept together), but otherwise things had gone back to the way they were before. Tony’s shifted his gaze to Natalie. She was dressed in a red, vintage number. Long sleeved, skirt stopping at the knee, and hugging her figure.

 

Tony didn’t know how Natalie was stashing a gun under the form fitting skirt, but he knew she had one. Natalie was unofficially Pepper’s bodyguard because Pepper had said, “I don’t want people knowing I have a freaking bodyguard, Tony. If I have one, they’ll think I need one, wonder what’s wrong, and people’s faith in SI is already shaken. I’m doing this for you, but I don’t want people to know.”

 

It had been his one concession to making Pepper CEO after Obie was… gone. It was the best thing for the company at the time, Tony wasn’t in the right headspace, didn’t want to deal with the looks from the board or anyone. Pepper ended up being a better CEO than he ever would have been anyway. But he needed to know Pepper was safe. It had just been a good thing that Pepper and Natalie got along well and after watching Natalie kick Happy’s ass when she started, it took care of the bodyguard issue, too. Pepper was good with it and Natalie didn’t mind pulling double duty, especially since it meant collecting double pay, too. 

 

“You look lovely, too.” He told Natalie. She tipped her head, a smile curving her red painted lips. She took in Steve’s clothes, but didn’t comment. Just turned away, looking out the window, and appearing to hide a laugh. Pepper noticed and drilled a look at Tony, brows arched. Her expression promised they would be having a discussion later. Whatever, she already knew he bought Steve a suit. 

 

The rest of the drive was quiet. Tony stared out the window at the evening traffic until Happy pulled up in front of the convention center. Guests were milling about outside, a few paparazzi snapping pictures. As soon as Happy opened the door and Tony climbed out after Steve, straightening and button his jacket before lending a hand to Pepper and Natalie, the flashes start going off. They were yelling questions, but staying behind the cordon security had set up. 

 

_ “Mr. Stark, are you and Ms. Potts back together?”  _

 

_ “Stark, Mr. Stark! Any comment on how SI is doing?”  _

 

_ “Haven’t seen you out much, Stark. Still in hiding?” _

 

Tony ignored them, sunglasses firmly in place despite the late hour, and tucked Pepper’s arm through his and headed for the door. Natalie and Steve trailed behind them. They passed through the metal detectors, Tony setting it off when he walked through even though his pockets were empty. “Pacemaker,” he told the security guard when she waved a wand over his chest and it beeped.

 

Tony hadn’t wanted the reactor in his chest to be public knowledge. Everyone who knew agreed to keep it hush-hush, including military personnel once Tony agreed to not discuss how botched his protection detail had been. He didn’t blame the soldiers, all of whom had died, but the higher ups who were in charge of it? Who allowed Stane to get information out about the route he took? (Though he didn’t know that’s how it was leaked until later) Yeah, they didn’t want him talking about that. Tony still didn’t know who had been working with Stane, but it had to have been someone with connections and he would find out eventually. 

 

But the reactor was his dirty little secret, the glow hidden behind a prototype SI’s medical division had been developing for skin grafts. Helen Cho was a genius when it came to medical applications and technology. It was better people thought he had a bad heart (which wasn’t exactly  _ un _ true) than a self-sustaining power source, hooked up to an electromagnet, keeping him from imminent death. 

 

At least until the suit was ready and after that— well, Tony hadn’t planned past:  _ Make suit _ . He was winging it. 

 

He let his eyes case the space, noting the tables set up further in. “Please, tell me we aren’t staying for dinner,” he begged. 

 

Pepper looked at him disapprovingly. “We bought a table, Tony.” 

 

“Doesn’t mean we have to suffer through the no doubt horrible food they’ll be serving. They have the money already.” 

 

“We are eating the horrible food,” she told him, the matter settled, allowing a group of bejeweled women and tuxedoed men to pull her away, Natalie with her, to talk about— whatever charity this was for. Pepper was on the board, he thought. Tony made a beeline for one of the bars set up around the room. 

 

“Scotch, on the rocks,” he told the bartender when the man looked his way. “You want anything?” 

 

Steve seemed surprised that Tony was asking him. “Water? I don’t drink much.” 

 

Tony scoffed and told the bartender to make it two Scotches. Two highball glasses were set in front of him a moment later and he handed one to Steve. “Sip it. Slowly.” 

 

Steve did, choked, coughed. Tony chuckled and patted him on the back. He might have rubbed once or twice before pulling back his hand. It felt too nice to touch him, even through layers of clothes. He needed to be cautious because touching Steve felt  _ too  _ good. It felt right in a way little in his life had. 

 

“So, what is this thing again?” Tony asked, sipping his Scotch, and walking away from the bar. Steve fell into step beside him, holding up a program Tony hadn’t even seen him take. That was the thing about having an assistant, though. No one tried handing things to him and Tony didn’t need to bother remembering what social event he was at and why. Bonus, with Pepper here taking care of the schmoozing and networking, he might not even need to talk to too many people. 

 

He knew that was a pipe dream, okay, but he was holding on to it with both hands. He hated mindless small talk. 

 

“It’s a charity auction for the Robin Hood Foundation.” 

 

“Ah,” he said, pointedly ignoring someone waving at him. Guy had that overbearing alpha douche look; Tony had no idea if he knew him or not. “That seems appropriate, for the crowd.” 

 

“Why?” Steve was frowning down at the program, flipping through the pages, nose scrunching up like an adorable bunny (Who the hell was he now, thinking things like that?). 

 

“Oh, you know.” Tony waved the hand holding his scotch, indicating the men and women filling the room, all dressed up in designer duds and glistening jewels, trying to out-do one another. “There’s nothing rich people like more than being able to show off the things they bought for  _ charity _ . Then they can tell everyone how generous they are while showing off their new car or fancy painting. It’s basically stealing with how much they love it.” 

 

“You’re rich,” Steve pointed out with a sidelong glance, like he might have forgotten that fact. 

 

“Yeah, but I’m not,” he paused, searching for the words to express what he meant, but nothing came to mind. He settled on, “I don’t care what they think about me.”

 

“Must be nice,” Steve said, but rushed to continue before Tony had time to do more than open his mouth to ask what he meant by that. “Are you going to bid on anything?” 

 

“I know Pepper will, but maybe, I don’t know.” There were groups mingling around the tables where the auction items were set up, security keeping standing sentinel. There were paintings, as their usually were at these things. Art was a staple at these events. His mother used to buy art at charity functions just like this. But Tony also saw shining jewelry in clear glass cases. 

 

He wandered closer, struck by an absurd idea. It’s absurd for many reasons, most of all because he has no right thinking it. Steve spread across his bed, pale skin on display, wearing nothing but diamonds. He had to clear his throat to pull himself away from the tantalizing image. 

 

Tony had been a bit of a whore in his formative years (not that he thinks there’s anything wrong with it), and okay, still had been until he started dating Pepper. The one thing that had never been a problem was controlling himself in public and still he felt heat suffusing his body, had to shift on his feet. If he had seen someone he wanted in his bed, he stayed calm, in control. Steve blew his control all to hell. 

 

_ It won’t change who you are on a fundamental level.  _ I don’t think you’re right about that, Rhodey, Tony thought. Because he found himself speaking without any seeming input from his brain. He was a legit goddamn genius, but he was acting like a teenager with a crush, blurring things out. He hadn’t even acted like this as a teenager. “Help me pick something out.” 

 

“What?”  

 

“One of the necklaces. Or something,” he said trying to sound nonchalant. “Pepper is always getting on me about diversifying my assets; it’s why she buys me so much art I know both about.” 

 

“The collection she mentioned at the interview?” Steve asked, getting momentarily sidetracked, his eyes lighting up with curiosity. Tony would show him everything he owned if he kept looking like that. When he shook his head, a lock of blond hair fell across his forehead. Tony’s eyes tracked the movement of Steve’s hand when he pushed it back. “Never mind. But I don’t know anything about jewelry.” 

 

Tony forced himself to look anywhere else. “You’re an artist, though. You know aesthetics.” 

 

“Well, that’s— I mean— I wouldn’t say I’m an artist.” 

 

That blush that Tony was coming to love crept up Steve’s cheeks at the casual compliment Tony threw his way. Tony disagreed (he might not know art like Pepper did, but Steve has skill). Then again maybe he was a little bit biased. He doesn’t want to make Steve uncomfortable by pushing it though. “Eh, just help me pick something pretty then. If I know Pepper, and I do, she’ll be bidding on a painting.” 

 

“Okay… well,” Steve bit his lip, looking at the information in the event program, which listed all of the items up for auction. They’re still walking, but since Steve’s head was down, he wasn’t watching where he was going. An alpha with an obnoxiously loud laugh backed up when they passed. Steve almost got jostled, but Tony intercepted, bumping the guy’s shoulder with his own. The man stumbled forward a few steps, splashing champagne on his sleeve. 

 

“Why don’t you watch where you’re going,” the man berated, turning around to face them, but as soon as he caught sight of Tony, his mouth clamped shut. He jerked, straightening his jacket with his free hand. “Oh, Stark. Sorry, I didn’t see you.” 

 

Tony smiled, but it wasn’t ind. The guy must not be as much of an idiot as he appeared because he swallowed and took another step back. His eyes flicked to Steve, who was looking back and forth between them with a furrow between his brows. 

 

“No harm done, Mr …?” Tony trailed off, holding out his hand. He doesn’t really want to know this guy, but having his name for future reference (cause of… reasons) would be good and this is expedient.  

 

“Uh, Smithson. Jeff Smithson.” He gripped Tony’s hand, pumping it so enthusiastically Tony almost rolled his eyes. 

 

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” Tony said when he didn’t let go after an appropriate length of time. Tony pulled his hand back, wiping his hand on his jacket before shoving it into his pants pocket. He didn’t even try to be subtle and the group that had just been laughing at the man’s jokes started laughing at the man himself, instead. 

 

Now, Tony did roll his eyes; he hated these people.These events always reminded him of being at boarding school. “We’re gonna go now.” 

 

He walked off without another word. He heard Steve spit off a quick goodbye (he was way too nice, good Lord) before rushing to catch up to Tony’s longer strides. “Find anything good,” he asked, trying to head off any questions Steve might have, motioning his head at the program Steve still held open on top of his tablet. 

 

“Hm? Oh, well, there was one,” Stevesaid, showing Tony the tiny picture with a description next to it. Tony barely glanced at it, more interested in listening to what Steve had to say than what the organizers had listed. He took a sip of his Scotch, running his eyes along the jewelry set up, trying to find the one that had caught Steve’s eye. “It’s— it’s vintage. Art Deco. Like the Chrysler building,” he clarified at Tony’s questioning glance. He’s heard of it before, of course, but it’s not his thing. “I’ve always liked the style.” 

 

Tony fought it, set up on a high round table by itself. The color of the blue stones reminded him of Steve’s eyes even though they were a darker blue. 

 

“It’s diamonds and sapphires. It’s actually two bracelets that fit together. Signed by Cartier,” Steve told him, haltingly. 

 

It looked like a collar and Tony wasn’t a particularly kinky guy (he appreciated almost anything in the right context), but the thought of Steve wearing it, even though Tony hadn’t ever seen him wear anything so overtly feminine, was disturbingly pleasing. He should just piss a circle around Steve while he beat his chest and call it a day. But he still found himself writing down a bid that was exorbitantly over the previous amount from… some old biddy who knew his mother. Ugh. 

 

“Wait, that‘s—” Steve looked at the amount he wrote down, eyes widening, then up at Tony. “That is a lot of money, Mr. Stark. I think it’s more than the appraisal.” 

 

“Eh, it’s worth will only grow. Old things usually do.” He didn’t give a shit about how much it was worth or how much it would cost him; Tony just wanted it because Steve had liked it. He was so screwed if Steve ever figured out what Tony was willing to do for him. 

* * *

Later when Tony was seated with everyone at the table, moving the food that was indeed terrible around his plate, Tony listened with half an ear to what the senator next to him was saying. The rest of him was focused on scanning the room for Steve. He had left to go to the bathroom ten minutes ago and not knowing where he was in this group of people was making Tony fidgety. 

 

So much for all his modern, liberal beliefs. Whatever was going on with his brain chemistry was de-evolving him. He ran a hand over his face, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he saw Pepper watching him across the table.  _ Are you okay? _ she mouthed. 

 

He nodded, but out of the corner of his eye he saw a shock of familiar blond hair and whipped his head around. Steve was standing at the bar talking to another blond man, tall, thin—and, fucking Christ, it was Justin Hammer. If he never had to see that jackass again, it would have been too soon. 

 

Tony was going to leave it alone, he was. They were in a room full of people, Steve had been dealing with all kinds of situations himself for years. Steve could handle this. 

 

All his good intentions and restraint went out the window when Steve tried to walk away and Hammer put his arm in the way. “Excuse me,” he said to the senator cutting her off mid-sentence, standing abruptly. 

 

“Come on, it can’t be that great working for Stark, really? I bet it sucks, Steve-o. I’ll pay you double,” Tony heard Hammer say as he walked up. He could see Hammer’s profile, the smirk on his face, the way he was eyeing Steve, and his fist curled because he wanted to punch the dick right in the face. 

 

He didn’t, and wasn’t he just patting himself on the back for that? Instead, Tony leaned one elbow against the bar behind Steve and singled the bartender for another Scotch. Once it was in hand, Tony pivoted so he could look at Hammer over Steve’s head. Both men were looking at him, Steve looking uncomfortable and pissed off, Hammer looking smug, the prick. “Hammer.” 

 

“Anthony.” 

 

The pissed off was winning out on Steve’s face and he crossed his arms, glaring at the two alphas he stood between. Tony was trying not to posture, stayed leaning, kept his body relaxed, but he must have been transmitting something for Steve to be so pissed at him. Hammer, on the other hand, had his chest puffed out like an idiot. “Could you maybe not try to steal my assistant while I’m right here?” It was worded like a question, but it wasn’t one and all three of them knew it. “Call it a professional courtesy.” 

 

“Mr. Stark, maybe we should just—” Steve started to say only to have Hammer cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. 

 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about this. Let the alphas talk, sweetheart.” 

 

Steve looked at Hammer with such animosity Tony almost laughed. Even when Tony had been, admittedly, an ass at his interview, Steve had never leveled that kind of loathing at him. It was vindicating that Steve disliked Hammer as much as Tony did and part of him found humor in this turn of events, but he also still really wanted to punch the other alpha. 

 

“Justin, Justin, Justin. That was a dumb thing to say,” Tony told him, tsking. “I would walk away if I were you. You don’t want a scene, do you?” 

 

“What, Tony,” Hammer shoot back, laughing. “You gonna hit me?” 

 

“Oh, no. I wouldn’t waste my time.” He tipped his head down at Steve, taking a sip from his glass. “He might, though.” 

 

Steve turned to look at him so fast, Tony worried he might have whiplash, surprise written all over his face. Tony raised a brow, nodding almost imperceptibly, trying to convey to Steve that Tony would play this however Steve wanted to. 

 

Hammer looked at Steve, confused, like he was seeing him for the first time. Noted the omega’s posture, the flat expression when he turned to face the man again. Hammer laughed, but it lacked the confidence of before. Getting hit by the omega assistant of one of his company's rivals (sort of rivals, now that SI wasn’t making weapons—they still deal in some of the same tech) would tarnish his image. And even though there were those who still countenanced beating omegas in the privacy of your own home, doing so in public was verboten. 

 

Hammer would have to take what he got and walk away, with his pride and possibly other parts of him bruised. Tony didn’t want Steve to hit the guy and risk getting hurt (Hammer had height and mass on the smaller man), but he was going to follow Steve’s lead. Tony had needed to come over to have Steve’s back, but he had no right to defend his honor. 

 

Hell, Tony had seen the (sealed #sorrynotsorry) police report from when Steve was 14. The kid grew up in Brooklyn and obviously wasn’t unfamiliar with getting into a fight. 

 

“You wouldn’t hit me, would you, sweetheart?” Hammer asked the question, but he didn’t sound sure. He was frowning, as if this wasn’t a common occurrence and maybe it wasn’t. Hammer was a fairly wealthy man; there are a lot of people who would overlook his character flaws for the perks. 

 

“Go fuck yourself,” Steve told Hammer, his accent amping up, and Tony tried to hide his laugh with a cough. Steve looked at him in disapproval, but his lips twitched at the corners. 

 

Hammer clenched his jaw, glared at Tony like this was his fault.  _ You brought this on yourself, dude.  _

 

Hammer turned to leave. 

 

And that’s when the men with guns, dressed in tactical armor and ski masks, showed up.

 

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Tony growled.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was being a pain in the ass to write (and I almost deleted my entire google doc so thank FUCKING GOD for the undo button) so I'm sorry for ending it on a cliffhangery part. It would have gotten really, really long if I had kept going. And I honestly meant for the convo between Rhodes and Tony to have more of a focus, but it just wouldn't work. There will be more Rhodes in later chapters. I love him too much to leave him with nothing more than a vaguely referenced phone call lol Things get better, or at least more interesting(??), in the next couple chapters if things go to plan. There will be some Steve/Tony sexy times.
> 
> I'm basically playing up a lot of fated mates tropes, but having Tony's insta-attraction/pull/need to protect be for other reasons. Mental illness in an A/O universe could affect alphas and omegas in different ways. I enjoy exploring the psychological aspects of things (I should since it's my major lol). So, some of Tony's issues that are well known show up, but I added some other textbook things (literally cause I referenced my abnormal psych book- like increased reactions, negative emotions, avoidance, reduced responsiveness, etc). Hope it gives you some insight into him and his thought processes. Steve is going to have some issues that come up later, as will Bucky when he finally actually shows up. Steve might not have been frozen in ice for 70 years and Bucky never becomes the Winter Soldier in this AU I have going on, but that doesn't mean they're safe from trauma (sorry, dudes). 
> 
> The inspiration for the Art Deco necklace is a Cartier necklace from the 30’s. It’s two diamond and sapphire bracelets that for together to make a collar necklace. I went with Art Deco (1920s and 30s) as a nod to the time period Cannon-Steve is from. 
> 
> The Robin Hood Foundation is an actual charity which operates in NYC. And they actually do have benefits at the Jacob Javits Center (or they had one there this year, anyway). I don't know what really goes on at one of these things, but I made some shit up to fuel my plot. But I picked RHF because Gwyneth Paltrow in on the board. It seemed appropriate. And the foundation does a lot of good shit for New Yorkers. 
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and comments! They really do mean a lot.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gasp! Two chapters so close together? Don’t get use to it ~_~ 
> 
> This chapter just about wrote itself (maybe to make up for how long it took me to write chapter 4), so I figured why not post it now. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! ❤️

It just figured that something like this would happen the first time Tony had agreed to show up at a social event in a year. The masked gunmen (he thinks they’re all men from their build, but that doesn’t mean anything), all ten of them armed with M16 assault rifles and Beretta M9s (Tony still knows his weapons, even if guns hadn’t strictly been his game), move with precision, taking out the guards. They don’t kill them yet, but the threat is there by the way they knock them out, zip cuff their hands behind their backs, and disarms them like it’s nothing. 

Tony grabs Steve’s arm (Too tight, he tells himself, but can’t modify it) getting him on the other side of the bar, needing a physical barrier between the men with guns and Steve. His eyes cut across the room, sees Natalie move her chair surreptitiously closer to Pepper and meets his gaze. He nods at her; Pepper is her concern, her only concern. 

There are shouts and gasps from the guests. Some of them are crouched on the floor, trying to hide. Like hiding will work, like these people won’t know to check under the table. Won’t hold guns to their heads. Stop it. This isn’t the same thing; he’s not in a cave in Afghanistan. 

“Mr. Stark,” Steve says, sounding far calmer than Tony feels. He grunts to let Steve knows he heard him, can’t stop tracking the positions of all the masked men. “I can’t get a signal.” 

Tony looks then. Steve has his phone out, below the bar where no one on the other side can see. “They probably set up jammers. Goddamnit.” That means he can’t get a signal to JARVIS. He didn’t have a contingency for getting signal past a jammer. Something that would need to be remedied in case he found himself in a situation like this again. 

The fact they didn’t kill the guards is… good. Means they probably don’t have plans to kill anyone. He just hopes the rest of the rich assholes in the room can keep their shit together. 

“What do we do?” Steve whispers. 

“You don’t do anything. Whatever they say, you listen.” He sounds harsh even to his own ears, but the thought of one of them touching Steve, shooting him, is making his heart seize.

Tony hears a whimpering sound to his left and notices for the first time that Hammer is crouched behind the bar with his hands over his head. Tony rolls his eyes. Fucking coward, not that he would expect anything else. Justin Hammer talks a big game, but it’s just that— talk. Tony had never liked the man. 

“Alright, everybody,” one of the gunmen finally speaks up. His voice is distorted more than it should be behind the mask— voice modulators, Tony decides. They really don't want anyone to know who they are. Good sign. Hiding their identity is a good sign. “Just listen like good little boys and girls and everyone will get out of here just fine— minus your fancy jewelry and watches, that is.” 

Two of the other thieves starts putting the jewelry set up for auction into duffle bags. Another two are going around the room collecting valuables from the guests. The rest of them keep their guns aimed, telegraphing what will happen if someone doesn’t cooperate. Just give it to them; don’t be a dumbass, he silently pleads with the other guests. I better not get shot because of one of them. 

When Dufflebag Number One gets to the bar, Tony takes his watch off and drops it in the bag. He doesn’t care about it; he can buy another one even if the insurance doesn’t cover it. Steve does the same with his cheap, Rolex knock off he most likely picked up from a street vendor. For good measure, Tony reaches down, grabs Hammer’s wrist, taking off his watch, the obnoxious gold rings he wears, and tosses them in the bag. 

Across the room, Pepper is missing her necklace, the diamonds he had bought her on a trip to Paris, and Natalie is playing up being a scared, little woman. She really is way too good at that.

Everything is going fine. No one rocks the boat until some socialite starts screaming hysterically when they try to take her ring. Her husband, big, tough alpha he’s trying to be pushes the guy with the gun, like a moron. That gun is now pointed at Idiot Alpha’s head and Tony must be suffering from an aneurysm or something because it is the only reason he would do what he’s about to do. 

“Stay here,” he tells Steve, imploring, almost begging. Tony was going to be stupid, but Steve was going to be okay. 

“What? What do you mean?” Steve makes a grab for his arm when Tony starts rounding the bar, but Tony sidesteps it. “Wait, don’t,” he hisses. Those wide blues are asking him not to do whatever he’s thinking, but Tony turns away. 

He walks toward the danger, berating himself for being—what, heroic? No, the furthest thing from the truth; he’s selfish, always has been, always will be. This is temporary insanity with a dose of Save Steve thrown in.

Tony has his hands up, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. Just a rich guy in a tux. Sees Natalie out of the corner of his eye shaking her head, brow furrowed. He shrugs lightly, lets his lips turn up. I’ve got this, he tries to convey. Pretending overconfidence is something he is all too familiar with. Which is good because he has no idea what he’s doing. 

The guy holding the gun to the Idiot Alpha’s head turns Tony’s way. One of the other gunmen trains his weapon on Tony. He keeps his hands up, his stride slow, the easy smile on his face. “Come on, fellas,” he says, hoping they are all men and he hadn’t just insulted someone. “No need to make things messy.” 

“Sit down,” the one pointing the gun at him says. 

Tony ignores him, focuses on the woman who started the whole thing, drilling his eyes into hers. Her screaming has quieted down to shaking, tears, and whimpers. The couple is hugging each other. “Hand over the ring, cupcake. Everything will be fine. I’m sure hubby dearest will buy you another one.” 

“Sit the hell down,” the guy says a second time. He’s closer now, the barrel of his gun a few inches from Tony’s head and he tries not to flinch. “I won’t tell you again.” 

“This is really unnecessary. Barbie and Ken don’t pose a threat. I mean, come on. Big, strong guy like you could snap them in two.” He’s placating them and they both know it, but he doesn’t have a bullet in his head. Yet. “You’re almost out of here scot free. Shooting them would just cause panic. That’s a complication you don’t need.” 

The gun is pressed to his skull then, and Tony does flinch. Miscalculation. It was good while it lasted, he thinks. Hopes Steve isn’t watching. 

The shot never comes, though. No bullets fired, but three of the gunmen drop to the floor. Tony glances down at the one who had been about to end him, blinking. “Is that an arrow?” He asks no one in particular. 

The remaining gunmen are scanning the room, guests hit the ground, looking for cover, others struck motionless in shock. Two more of the thieves drop with, yup, arrows sticking out of them, and Natalie materializes out of nowhere, missing her shoes (and why that detail stands out he doesn’t know). She grabs one guy by the throat, kicks another in the head, before hooking that leg around the first guy’s neck. They hit the ground, Natalie on top, strangling the guy with her thighs, casually raising her gun to shoot two others in the places they aren’t protected by body armor—shoulder, leg, neck. The one she kept pinned is bucking like an enraged bull, but he goes still when Natalie punches him in the face. The last one standing tries run and gets an arrow and a bullet for his trouble. 

“Stark.” Tony doesn’t realize he had just been standing frozen until he hears Natalie cautiously say his name. “Stark, you can put your hands down.” 

Oh, right. They drop to his sides. “What the hell just happened?” 

“Later,” Natalie tells him. Some guy, dressed in black, rappels down from the ceiling. He has a quiver on his back, so that at least explains the arrows, and a gun strapped to his thigh. Natalie leaves Tony to approach him and they bend their heads together briefly before splitting up to disarm and cuff the masked men. 

Pepper appears in front of him, places a gentle hand on his bicep. “Tony, are you—” She cuts herself off, seems to think better about what she was going to say. “Maybe you should sit down. You’re shaking.” 

She’s speaking quietly, though Tony doubts anyone can hear them over the cacophony surrounding them. People have their phones out, making frantic calls, some of them to the police. Guess the jammer was dealt with. Forget sitting. “I need a drink,” Tony tells Pepper and turns away from her before he can see the hurt he knows will be on her face when he pulls from her grip. 

The bar has the added benefit of being where Steve is and, God, Steve is safe. His breath shudders out of his chest. His plan, such as it had been, hadn’t been Shoot-the-bad-guys-with-arrows good, but it had been the only thing he could think of. If he’d had the suit… But he hadn’t, so it didn’t matter. Needed to have a contingency for a situation like this in the future though. 

Tony just needed to make sure Steve didn’t get hurt and he hadn’t cared if he died in the process. Not that he wanted to die, but he hadn’t cared if that was the end result and meant Steve was fine. Of course, if he were dead he obviously wouldn’t have been able to protect anyone, so… Should have thought that through more. 

Tony was almost at the bar, Pepper at his heels, when Steve descends on him like an avenging angel. “Are you nuts? You could have died!” 

He almost laughs. Tony doesn’t know if it’s just how Steve is wired or if it’s because he hadn’t been around him after Afghanistan like Pepper had, who was treating him with kid gloves when he knew for a fact she wanted to tear him a new one for being a dumbass. But Steve is confrontational, not shying away from telling Tony how dumb he’s been. 

“Well, I didn’t.” He tries for a smile, thinks he fails when Steve’s frown deepens. Whatever. He keeps moving, grabs a bottle of Scotch and a glass from behind the bar, doesn’t bother with ice. Just pours a healthy amount. Hammer isn’t behind the bar anymore Tony notices with a huff. That man is going to be insufferable for years after this, lying about how “brave” he had been, no doubt. 

He gets the glass halfway to his mouth when Steve grabs his jaw and pulls his head down. Lightly touches a spot on his temple. “This might bruise,” he says softly, breath bathing Tony’s ear. This time he shivers from something other than the shit storm that just took place. 

“Hmm?” The feel of Steve’s hands on his face is distracting him more than the one eighty. From scolding to concerned in two seconds flat. There are calluses on Steve’s hands, but Tony doesn’t mind. It’s kind of nice, grounding. 

“The mark from the,” he breaks off, swallowing. “Where the gun was pressed.” 

“I’m fine.” Tony pulls back. He doesn’t want to talk about it, not now. Steve being concerned is doing weird things and Tony doesn’t want to dwell on that either. 

“What were you thinking?” Steve asks. I can’t tell you, Tony thinks. “You didn’t need to be a hero.” 

“Wasn’t trying to be,” he grunt. Tony Stark was not a hero—he brings destruction wherever he goes. He just hadn’t been able to stand there while everything went to hell in a handbasket because some trophy wife couldn’t part with her shiny sparkly. It had been for selfish reasons. It hadn’t been so he could be a hero, it hadn’t even been for that couple; all he had been able to think about was Steve. What would happen to him if bullets started flying and what Tony had to lose. Can’t lose something you don’t have. 

But also, if he was honest, he hadn’t wanted any more blood on his hands. The only reason Steve was here was because of Tony. Just like the only reason the soldiers in his convoy in Afghanistan had been in that exact place at that exact time, was because of Tony. Their faces still haunted him. Not to mention everyone who died from the weapons Stane dealt out from under him on the black market. 

His hands felt so stained, they would never get clean. 

He knew Natalie would keep Pepper safe (had apparently been underestimating her skill level, in fact), he hadn’t been thinking about Pepper beyond distant worry. Besides, Pepper would have been there whether Tony was there or not, as awful as that sounded. It wouldn’t have been his fault if something happened to her. Probably still would have blamed himself, but that would have been baseless. Steve would have been in Brooklyn, safe and sound, away from the danger that seemed to cling to Tony like glue. 

Tony shakes it off. Nothing happened. Everything is fine. He’s fine, Steve is fine, Pepper is fine. Natalie is… well, she has some explaining to do, but she’s fine, too. So is Robin of Locksley over there, who’s talking on a sat phone? 

Oh. Oh, no. Tony is laughing suddenly, so hard he has to put his glass down. It really isn’t funny, but it is. “Tony?” Pepper asks. She and Steve have matching expressions of concern. This is it, he can almost hear them say, he’s finally lost it. 

“Sorry,” he chokes out, trying to get himself under control. He clears his throat, throws back too much Scotch. “I’m fine. It’s just, you know, Robin Hood Foundation and that guy,” he points, “has a bow and arrows.” 

Pepper’s lips pinch, then she sighs. “Glad you can find the humor in this, Tony. I need to go check on the guest. The police should be here soon.” She turns to Steve. “Keep an eye on him,” she tells his assistant, like Tony isn’t a grown man, standing right there.

“Sure, Ms. Potts. I’m glad you’re okay,” he tells her with a smile. 

“You, too,” she tells him, eyes soft, and touches Steve’s shoulder. Then she’s gone. Tony is trying not to feel offended that Pepper gets a smile and he gets scolded. 

“Well,” Tony says, the word dropping like a bomb in the relative silence once Pepper leaves. He pours more Scotch into is glass. “This was an eventful night.” 

Steve is looking at Toy with disappointment and it makes him feel two feet tall. “Hey,” he exclaims when Steve takes his glass away. 

“I think you’ve had enough.” He doesn’t just sound tired, he sounds exhausted, so Tony doesn’t argue. Tony wants to wrap him in his arms and never let go, but that isn’t appropriate, even after almost getting shot. Right? Probably. 

Natalie comes over, looking more serious than usual. “The cops are going to be here soon. If you want to leave before they show up, I can make that happen.” 

“Where’s your friend?” He asks instead of responding to her statement. 

“Outside. To talk PD before they enter the building.” 

“Who are you? What agency?” His head is slightly clearer now, and Tony is not stupid, hairbarained schemes aside. Build a mechanical suit in a cave to get away from terrorists? Sounds great! Confront a crowd of armed men with what looked like military training? Just another Friday for Tony Stark. Natalie has secrets, he’d always known that and it was fine. It was her business.. But this? Her working, or at least having contacts in, a government agency—Katniss didn’t strike him as someone who worked for the mob— that had the kind of tech able to call for backup through a jammer? That was not okay.

“Not now, Stark. Later, I promise,” she tells him when it looks like he’s going to argue. 

“Fine.” He doesn’t want to have this confrontation out in the open anyway. And he wanted more than anything to not be stuck here for hours while New York’s finest took statements. “I’ll take you up on that offer to get out of here, though.” 

She dips her head. “Come on, then. Happy has the limo out front.” 

“You’re coming with me,” he tells Steve, leaving no room for argument. He’s not above throwing his weight around at the moment. There is just no way he’s leaving Steve here, where he can’t see him. If he thought he could get away with sleeping on the floor next to Steve’s bed he would do it. 

“The police are going to need my statement,” Steve tells him, stubborn. Wanting to do the right thing. Well, fuck that. 

“If they need to talk to you, they can find you later, at work. Not like they don’t know where the tower is.” He herds Steve toward the door, following Natalie, despite the smaller man’s protests. “Besides, you didn’t see anything the rest of these people didn’t.” 

Steve finally gives up trying to fight it and walks, but he doesn’t seem happy about it. Tough. Tony is over this night, over these people, and even though he knows he won’t be getting any sleep, he wants to be home. 

They walk outside, the cold air hitting Tony welcome. It helps clear the rest of the fog from his head. But it makes Steve shiver and wrap his arms around his smaller frame. Tony makes himself look away so he won’t take his coat off and drape it over Steve’s shoulders. 

The archer is leaning against the building, arms crossed, one foot propped on the wall. He follows their progress with narrowed eyes. He asks Natalie, “What’s his deal?”

She looks at Tony, then at her buddy, and back. Shakes her head. Later for that, too, he supposed. Tony lets it go for now. Happy is pacing outside the limo looking anxious. “Boss—”

“Don’t even try to apologize, Hap. You didn’t know, you couldn’t have.” Happy is moderately mollified. “There were too many of them for you to storm the castle anyway.” 

“I still feel like I failed, Boss.” 

“You’re barely my bodyguard any more and you only play my driver on tv,” Tony tells him, with a huff. “This didn’t happen at SI, so it wasn’t on your watch.” He starts to get in the car when Happy opens the door, but pauses. “Might want to give Pepp a recommendation for a different security firm, though.” 

“Sure thing, Boss.” Happy loses some of the tension around his eyes and Tony feels better. Happy takes his responsibilities very seriously and he doesn’t need to feel guilty for this. Not after he saved Tony in Malibu, when Stane was trying to rip the reactor out of his chest and finish the job he started when he set him up to die in Afghanistan.

Popular opinion might be that Tony is a cold, unfeeling bastard, but he’s not; he just cares about very few individuals. 

Steve slides into the limo beside him, his mouth set at a mulish angle, staring him dead in the eye. Tony Stark’s right back. “You want to go right he or you need to pick up your stuff from the Tower?” 

“So, we just not talking about… any of that?” 

“Don’t know what you mean.” Tony reaches for the Scotch in the well stocked bar. His hands aren’t shaking, so there’s that. Maybe if he drinks enough he’ll actually sleep a few hours before the nightmares wake him up. 

Something wraps around his wrist and Tony jolts, head turning too fast and making him dizzy. It’s Steve, goddamnit, he’s the only other person in the back of the limo. But Tony’s heart slams against his sternum anyway. When his mind catches up with the program, his sight comes back into focus, and he searches Steve’s expression. There’s no pity, no judgement. He’s determined, if anything. 

“Don’t. Please,” he says. No bullshit, open and frank. He squeezes Tony’s wrist once before releasing him. Dragging his lower lip between his teeth, Steve continues to hold his gaze, deliberating. Tony’s eyes dip to the reddened skin when he releases it. Just for a moment, but it’s long enough for Steve to notice despite the dim interior. Tony swears he sees something flash in Steve’s eyes—curiosity?—but it’s gone in the blink of an eye. “My dad drank, a lot,” Steve finally says. 

Tony releases a sigh, let’s his eyes drift shut momentarily. Allows his hand to drop down against his thigh. “So did mine.” 

“Not a great coping mechanism,” Steve tells him, quietly. 

“Better than some,” Tony replies. He repeats his earlier question to change the subject. He doesn’t want to talk about their mutually shitty fathers anymore than he wants to talk about the stunt he pulled inside. He was making a concession not picking up a drink right now. Tony agreed that alcohol isn’t the best coping mechanism, it’s just the one he’s used to (besides fucking) and meditating has never been his thing. “Home or the Tower first?” 

Steve is quiet for a heartbeat, two, then he huffs. Sounding resigned, he says, “Tower. I left my bag there along with my keys.” 

Tony presses the intercom and tells Happy to head for the tower. There are already some cruisers with red and blue flashing lights pulled up in front of the Convention Center, but true to Natalie’s word, they don’t try to stop the limo from leaving. 

They’re quiet on the drive back, but it’s not an uncomfortable quiet, though he could almost feel how much Steve still wanted to pry. Tony is on edge but not because of the silence. He pulls out his phone, going over the schematics for the suit, to give his hands something to do. Steve’s presence beside him is calming, amidst the turmoil in his brain, and he spots a few upgrades he needs to make before he runs a test tomorrow. 

Happy drops them off in the garage and he and Steve take the private elevator up to the penthouse. Steve heads to the guest room to grab his stuff and change. Tony considers sitting, but paces in front of the windows instead, not thinking about Steve taking off the heaven sent tux. 

Maybe he thinks about it for a minute. 

Tony stops, facing the Manhattan skyline, but that’s not what he’s seeing. Instead, he sees Steve undoing the tie Tony had tied for him earlier that evening while he toes off his shoes. The jacket comes off next, hung up immediately because Steve is fastidious. Then the belt and the cufflinks, back in the bags they were delivered in that morning. 

He would untuck the shirt next before starting on the row of tiny buttons down the front, slowly parting to reveal the smooth chest underneath. When he was done, the shirt would slip down his shoulders, off his slender arms, and join the jacket on a hanger. Tony’s eyes drift shut and he leans a hand against the cool glass. 

Tony had been with some of the most beautiful men and women, alpha and omega, that existed, but the thought of Steve’s naked torso was enough to almost bring him to his knees. He hadn’t touched anyone since he and Pepper broke up six months ago. A stranger touching him at all seemed abhorrent. In fact, sex had been the last thing on his mind until Steve walked into his life. 

But, oh, how he wanted Steve’s hands on him. Wants Steve to turn and find Tony standing at the door, watching the younger man undress. Instead of telling him to get out, he would smile, take Tony’s hand and pull him into the room before helping Tony undress. His forehead hits the glass with a dull thunk, his breath quickens. 

He tells himself to stop. As far as coping mechanisms go, this is right up there with narcotics. He thinks even Steve would tell him to go grab a drink at this point. Calm down, Stark. Just calm down. 

“I left the tux in the guest room closet. I hope that’s okay. Didn’t really want to try to bring that Think home on the train.” 

Tony lifts his head and can see Steve’s reflection in the glass. His head it down and he’s rummaging in his bag. Tony takes the opportunity to compose himself so when he turns around, he doesn’t appear as though he was just having a less than wholesome fantasy about his assistant. “That’s fine. But I’ll drive you home.” 

Nope, not what he meant to say. Not what Steve expected to hear because he looks up in surprise. “You don’t need to do that, Mr. Stark.” 

“We just faced down a room full of armed gunmen, I think you can call me Tony, Steve.” He needed to shut up. What happened to his keeping a professional distance? Think that went in the trash along with your mind. 

“Um, sure. Yeah.” Steve’s head tilts to the side and stares at him intently. Tony forces himself to remain still, doing nothing more than putting his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t know what Steve trying to find, but for the first time he feels like a puzzle being solved instead of the person doing the solving. It’s unnerving, but he doesn’t want it to end. He wants Steve to know him. More importantly, maybe, he wants Steve to want to know him. 

Steve eventually shakes his head, a small smile curving his lips. “I’m okay, though. I can get myself home.” 

“I know you can.” Tony shrugs. “I’m still offering.” 

“If you don’t mind, I guess.” 

“Wouldn’t have offered if I did.” Tony smiles, ruefully, going to push the call button for the elevator. 

“It is cold outside.” Steve joins him in the car after the doors open, slipping on his pea coat and hooking the strap of his messages bag over his shoulder.

“It is.” Tony nods his in mock seriousness. “Hey, J.” 

“How may I be of assistance, sir?” 

“Start the R8. Make sure it’s toasty.” 

“JARVIS can start your car?” 

Aw, Steve was so cute and technologically inept. Granted, most people didn’t have an AI enabled tower who had access to… everything with a computer and a wireless connection. “Cars, plural. The newer ones at least.” 

“You know, there is such a thing as having too much money.” 

“Shut your mouth,” Tony says, rocking back on his feet. “You’re a horrible American if you don’t worship at the altar of capitalism.” 

Steve turns to him with narrowed eyes. “I think you’re being sarcastic.” 

“I am, don’t worry.” They exit the elevator and the R8 is idling right outside. Opening Steve’s door for him would be too much, too much like they’re dating, so Tony doesn’t. Once they’re inside and buckled in, Tony turns to Steve. “I’m not like most of the people at that event tonight. Being rich is nice and it’s afforded me a lot of opportunities—most of which I’ve squandered, but the things it buys? They’re only things. They aren’t what matters.” 

“No, I don’t think there are a lot of people like you, Tony.” Steve’s eyes are wide in his angular face, and so, so blue even in the interior of the Audi which is only illuminated by the garage lights outside. His expressions are so earnest; they make a person want to trust him. Make you think maybe he helps little old ladies cross the street and rescue kittens from trees. He’s good and everything Tony doesn’t feel he deserves. 

Tony clears his throat, effectively ending whatever moment was happening. His grip on the wheel and the gearshift are too tight. “Gimme directions, J.” 

“Of course you know where I live.” 

“That a problem?” Tony eyes Steve sideways while merging into traffic. It’s New York City on a Friday night, so the streets are still packed, but it’s moving at a steady pace. 

“No. I’m not even surprised.” Steve’s back is against the door, arms crossed over his chest. “JARVIS could probably get you my grades from high school if he wanted.” 

“As an artificial intelligence, I have neither sex nor gender, Mr. Rogers,” JARVIS’s voice says over the car’s speakers. “But, yes, I could access your transcripts if needed.” 

“Please, don’t,” he says and Tony laughs. He relaxes after that and they talk about inconsequential things. Tony has to felt this relaxed in a long time. 

When he stops in front of the little house in Brooklyn where Steve lives (in the basement, apparently, which Tony wouldn’t approve of if it was something he should be giving his approval to, that is), he turns to Steve waiting for him to open the door, say goodbye and leave. 

“Thank you. Tony.” Steve has his hand on the handle but he hasn’t opened it yet. They’re just staring at each other, the warm air of the interior surrounding them, making Tony feel like no one else exists. 

Later he’ll wonder what happened. Tomorrow he’ll try to figure out when he unbuckled his seatbelt and closed the distance between them. How his hand ended up in Steve’s hair, cradling the back of his skull. He might even wonder why Steve didn’t move away or shove him; a punch wouldn’t have surprised him. 

But he doesn’t care about any of the whys or hows when his lips are pressed against Steve’s, his tongue tasting the recesses of his mouth, teeth nipping his plump lower lip. Steve’s hands are fisted around the lapels of his tuxedo jacket, not pulling him closer, but not pushing him away either. Steve isn’t passive, exactly, but he’s letting Tony lead, panting into Tony’s mouth, sharing each other’s breath. 

Somehow Tony finds the strength to pull back, resting their foreheads together, the hand in the omega’s hair, stroking. They’re both trying to catch their breath and Steve’s cheeks are flushed. 

Steve looks up at Tony from beneath long lashes. His lips are parted, and his sigh bushes Tony’s skin. Tony commits this moment to memory because it’s never going to happen again. The feel of Steve’s skin, the way he tastes, how his hair glides through Tony’s hands. He pulls back slowly, pressing a chaste kiss to Steve’s forehead. Before extricating his hand from Steve’s hair, Tony says, “I’ll see you on Monday.” 

“Yeah.” Steve blinks, nods his head unsteadily. With the door open and his bag clutched to his chest, Steve looks back at him before stepping outside. The sound of the door closing is loud. 

Tony waits until Steve disappears around the side of the house before leaving. 

Instead of being plagued by nightmares, when Tony drifts into sleep early into the morning, he only dreams of Steve.

* * *

The door to Steve’s tiny, basement apartment clicks shut behind him. He leans against the wood and his bag slips from his fingers, hitting the floor. 

He had never been kissed like that before. Had definitely never expected Tony freaking Stark to kiss him like that. Pushing off from the door, Steve drifts towards his bed, shedding his clothes on the way. Normally, he wouldn’t leave them like that, but he can’t seem to care about the mess at the moment. Once he’s stripped down to his boxer briefs, Steve crawls under his covers. 

Steve raises a hand to his mouth, letting his fingers brush his lips. His lips are tingling from where Mr. Stark—Tony bit them, the skin around them abraded from his facial hair. He feels like he’s floating, his thoughts hazy.

Which was probably why he hadn’t told Toy he wouldn’t be at work on Monday because that was when his heat was going to start. He thinks about texting Tony, but he knows he put his days off in Tony’s calendar. And besides, his phone is in his bag by the door. Getting up to retrieve it sounds like too much effort. 

Instead he drifts off with a smile on his face. He’ll worry about what this all means later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason when I started sort of outlining this in my head, chapters 4 & 5 were one chapter. I don’t know how it turned into this behemoth, but Tony has feels apparently and needed a lot of room to discuss them. **rolls eyes**
> 
> Just a couple of notes on this chapter in regards to Tony feeling guilty af about and feeling like he doesn’t deserve good things Those are perfectly normal symptoms for people who have suffered trauma. The guilt, especially, can happen with PTSD. 
> 
> Natasha—dunDunDUN. Yeah, that will come up later and be discussed fo sho. Like things weren’t already complicated enough, I just had to throw some more shit in there. I’m a bit of a masochist. D: There is an ultimate reason, though, so just be patient. 
> 
> And last but not least, yay, they kissed! I wish I could say it’ll be smooth sailing after this, but nah. I’m also a bit of a sadist like most authors. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for all of the kudos and comments! If I haven’t responded to your comment on my last chapter yet I will get to it, I promise. 
> 
> Summer semester is over next week and I have a wee little break before Fall semester starts. I’ve been wanting to start an original story I’ve had rattling around in my head (mpreg omegaverse, friends to lovers, where the omega is a surrogate so he’s pregnant with another couple’s baby), that I’m not sure if I would want to post here or go the self-pub route (or both), but I might just concentrate on finishing this fic first.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I upped the rating in anticipation of next chapter just FYI And a few more tags characters for the future. 
> 
> Thank you so so much for all the comments and kudos. Writing this fic is seriously helping me through a really low point in my depression that I have been stuck in for a while and your kind words are bringing me smiles. WHich does not mean I don't appreciate constructive criticism if you see anything that needs to be brought to my attention. Thanks to [BuckyAboveEverything](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckyAboveEverything/pseuds/BuckyAboveEverything) for pointing out typos a few chapters back which I still need to fix lol 
> 
> HAPPY READING!

The next morning, Steve wakes slowly. He stretches out his limbs, yawning so wide his jaw cracks. He groans when one of the springs digs into his hip and turns to his side, burying his head in his pillow.

So, he kissed his boss. Or his boss had kissed him. They kissed each other? Either way, that had happened. He wished he could talk to Buck, even though Steve knew his friend would lecture him about how stupid he was being. Probably. Before or after he went to yell at Tony like an overprotective big brother. And wouldn’t that be something to see? Bucky Barnes reading Tony Stark the riot act. The mental image alone was enough to make Steve laugh.

He just needed something certain right now and Buck was always that. Writing a letter and waiting weeks for a reply just wasn’t the same. Bucky might lecture worse than a father or even yell on occasion, but eventually he would listen and help him figure it out. They argued like siblings and Bucky could be overbearing, but when push came to shove his best friend had his back and he respected Steve’s autonomy in a world that didn’t always afford that to omegas.

Bucky had always been there when Steve needed him, showing up just in time to finish all the fights Steve couldn’t handle on his own. They met when Steve was in the fourth grade and had to transfer to public school when his dad started drinking away the money for his tuition to St. Gregory’s. P.S. 245 had been like culture shock. 

Bucky found Steve getting beat up at recess. The older kid, who was in Bucky's class, been picking on someone from Steve’s new class who was even smaller than he was and Steve had taken exception. After the older kid, who had literally been kicking Steve when he was down ran off, all Bucky had done was offer Steve a hand (it was hard to get up with his brace on) and pushed his shoulders back and told him, “Square up, dude. At least try to look like you know how to fight.”

Didn’t ask if he was okay, try to coddle him, or take him to the nurse. They were friends from that day forward.

After he presented, everything had been different, except how Bucky treated him and, God, how Steve had needed that. Everything he thought he knew about himself had turned on its head and it had been amazing what a punch to the shoulder or ending up in a headlock could do to make him feel like he was back on solid ground.

Steve hadn’t given much thought to whether he would be alpha or omega; it hadn’t mattered to him. He was who he was and his designation wouldn’t change that. Turned out not a lot of other people shared that opinion. He presented at the end of seventh grade when he was thirteen, and eight grade had been hell. Bucky was Midwood by then, Steve was still at Ditmas, and Steve's mom was despairing whenever he came home with scraped up hands, dirty knees, or the occasional bloody lip. “Who did this? Do I need to go down there? Steve, what did you do ?” Cause, of course, it was his fault for not just keeping his head down.

Steve loved his mom, but even being an omega herself, she had treated him differently and he didn’t know how to talk to her when her answer was “Maybe you should pray, baby.” Generational thing, maybe. Or being raised by Irish, Catholic immigrants who felt omegas belonged two places: at home or in church, preferably on their knees in both. Like the Omega Rights movement had completely passed them by.

When he was sick, people acted like he was fragile and broken. Hadn’t stopped anyone from kicking his ass, though. When he turned out omega, he still got in fights with bullies (usually male alphas with a chip on their shoulder and something to prove who felt the best way to do that was picking on someone weaker—females of both designations just spread rumors and knocked you down verbally), but something was different. The tone of voice, the posturing, the way they looked at him. They would push instead of punch, like being an omega meant he somehow wasn’t a boy anymore and they couldn’t do that even when he didn’t afford them the same (as in affectual as his fists were).

They would tell him to stay down and he would get back up. “I can do this all day.”

Maybe in the year he and Bucky were at separate school people forgot he use to be Bucky’s mouthy shadow. It only took once to remind them and Bucky had kept a closer eye on Steve after that.

Some jock thought it would be funny to corner the new omega (he had been so invisible before, just a runt with a bad back and asthma), put his hands where they weren’t wanted, brushing against his scent glands, touching his ass, laughing at him when Steve tried to punch him in the face. Bucky found them, Steve pinned to the wall, the guy’s hands on his neck.

Bucky got a two week suspension for beating the jock up, but he walked Steve to school and waited for him when the day was done.

“I don’t need you to do this, Buck.”

“It’s not for you, Stevie.”

Everyone was more careful not to get caught messing with him from that point forward and Steve didn’t tell Bucky about most of it because Bucky didn’t deserve to keep getting in trouble on Steve’s behalf.

Bucky taught him how to punch after that, to use his smaller size to get away, and senior year Steve had been kind of sort of dating someone that he hadn’t even liked that much (the guy he had liked graduated with Bucky and hiding from his mom had been the death of any relationship they might have had). An alpha respected another alpha’s claim more than an omegas ‘no’. It was messed up, but he was just happy to be left relatively alone with Bucky gone at basic. It had felt too much like hiding, but he’d been so tired of looking over his shoulder.

But Buck wasn’t here now either, so it didn’t matter how much he wanted to talk to him. He might put it in a letter anyway—just because. Hadn’t sent the one he started earlier in the week yet. If Bucky had to write back he would have time to cool down. Steve blew out a breath and it ruffled his hair where it hung over his brow.

He had no idea what time it was, his phone was still on the other side of the room, but the amount of light seeping in through the windows up against the ceiling meant it was later than he normally got up. Steve was considering going out for a run like he used to with Bucky, more of a jog in his case, when there was a knock on the door.

Steve frowned at the panel, wondering who it could be. His landlords never used the outside door and, well, Steve didn’t know a lot of people. He hadn’t had any guests here since moving in.

For one crazy second he thought it might be Tony. But that was wishful thinking, right? Tony had said he would see him on Monday. He wouldn’t, but still, that wasn’t the point. Tony Stark wasn’t panting after Steve so hard that he was slumming in Brooklyn on a Saturday morning.

The knock came again, louder this time, and, yeah, he really didn’t think it was Tony. Tony didn’t strike him as the pounding-on-the-door type. The knocking didn’t stop. “Hold on, I’m coming.”

He threw back his covered, grumbling and shivering, and put his wrinkled suit pants from yesterday back on them wrapped his comforter around himself.

He unlocked the door and yanked it open to find Darcy standing on the other side, smiling broadly. She was dressed more casually than he was used to seeing her in yoga pants, fake UGGS and a black, puffy coat. She had a beanie on her head and her hair spilled out the bottom, curling wildly around her shoulders and over the scarf wound around her neck. “Hey, loser.”

“Hi, Darcy.” He looked behind her, though he wasn’t sure what he expected to find, then back. “How did you know where I lived? And what are you doing here?”

“I work in HR,” she says like it was obvious, pushing him further inside and following after. “And we are going to brunch. Get dressed.”

“Why are we going to brunch?”

Darcy rolls her eyes. “You are terrible at having friends.” He didn’t disagree with her, so he didn’t comment, and went to grab clothes from his chest. “We’re going to brunch because I won’t see you Monday or Tuesday, which means we can’t eat lunch together.”

Steve dropped the comforter back on the bed, and picked up the clothes littering his floor and shoving them in his hamper.

“Come on, chop chop.” Darcy says, clapping her gloves hands. “Mama’s hungry.”

“If you didn’t want to wait, you should have called. Given me some warning. I just woke up.” He grabbed his pile of clothes and went into the bathroom.

“I tried. You didn’t answer,” was her answer through the door. Probably hadn’t heard it ring in his bag by the door.

“I could have been busy, you know.” He pulled on new boxer, a pair of jeans, topped it off with a gray T-shirt and a blue flannel.

“Dude, you have like no other friends, no offense. What plans would you have?” Her voice was closer, like she was leaning right against the door. And she had a point.

“I have friends,” he felt the need to defend himself anyway. He finished brushing his teeth, then walked back out into the main room, having to squeeze passed Darcy where she did, in fact, lean against the jamb. He dropped down on the bed to put on his so me and shoes.

“You have a Bucky,sweetie.”

Steve finished tying his boots and sighed. He rested his firearms on his thighs and looked up at her. “Brunch, huh?”

“Do you like IHOP? I am obsessed with their cheesecake pancakes,” Darcy told him, eyes wide behind her glasses.

Steve shrugged. “As long as you drove.”

“Of course I did,” she scoffs. “Darcy Lewis doesn’t do public transit.”

* * *

They went to the one in Flatbush, the same one he and Bucky went to growing up when they had extra money. They would sit and drink coffee and share a plate of pancakes cause extra money still hadn’t been enough for two.

Steve got his own pancakes this time (chocolate chip) because even if he wasn’t hungry enough to eat a horse because of his oncoming heat (and craving chocolate like he always did), the way Darcy was looking at her plate made him think she might stab him with her fork if he got near her food.

So, yeah, Steve had a Bucky. Now he had a Darcy, too. Which was nice and different. And maybe a Tony, a voice in his head whispered. He told it to shut up. He didn’t have anything yet. He had a guy, who happened to be his boss, whom he had kissed. 

He didn’t plan on telling Darcy anything about Tony. But in between Darcy telling him about her crazy family and inviting him to Thanksgiving dinner which was next week, Steve opened his mouth to answer but what came out was, “I kissed Tony Stark.”

Darcy choked on her coffee, her eyes opening comically wide. “What?”

“We kissed. Last night.”

She coughed, slapping her hands against the table, earning a few looks from the other patrons. “Tell me everything ,” she wheezes.

He does. Tells her everything about the attempted robbery, Tony confronting the criminals, taking him home and the kiss they shared. When he was finished, his throat is dry from talking so much and he keeps thinking about the way Tony had looked at him, touched him.

How he really kinda wants to do it again.They haven’t known each other long and, sure, messing around with your boss is probably the height of stupidity, especially when your boss had the kind of reputation Tony did. Not that he was judging, though. Hadn’t Steve been thinking earlier about how his boyfriend senior year had been more or less a business arrangement? Steve had slept with the guy so other alphas would leave him alone. They barely talked the entire year.

What Tony did in his past was in the past. And Tony had been with Ms. Potts for, what, years? And they had broken up recently, hadn’t they? Maybe Steve was just a rebound.

Steve wasn’t interested in a relationship… he didn’t think. Not one with Tony anyway. Right?Steve hadn’t been in a relationship in, shit, he didn’t remember how long. He and Tony came from such different worlds and Tony was in the public eye so much, Steve didn’t know if he could or wanted to deal with the scrutiny. But they were both adults and if they had ground rules… it could work.

If Tony wasn’t already regretting it, that was.

“How did I not here about Potts’ charity thingy getting held up? Or Romanoff being a kickass BA?” Her voice rises with every word until she’s almost shouting, her expression stuck between shock and glee. She settles back into the booth. “And I didn’t know Stark had it in him. The kissing yeah, I’ve seen the YouTube videos. But not the other thing. That’s pretty righteous.”

“He was being a moron,” Steve says with more heat that he meant. He might not be sure if he wanted to date Tony, but he was starting to see that underneath the front he put on for the world, he was a good guy. How many bosses would be okay with their assistant telling an acquaintance to go fuck themselves, even if the acquaintance was being a raging douche? Then again, Steve had gotten the impressionTony hadn’t liked that Hammer guy much.

“Yeah, but it was kind of heroic and alpha-y, you got to admit.” Darcy claws the air. Her smile is sly.

Sure, some part of him had been impressed, but Tony had just gotten done telling Steve to not do anything and just listen to the crazy men with guns. Then he goes and almost gets himself killed? Idiot. “It was stupid. If that weird guy with the bow and arrow hadn’t shown up, I don’t wanna think about what would have happened.”

“Yeah, What was his deal? Was he cute?”

“I honestly didn’t notice, what with all the bullets and arrows flying around and my boss almost dying.” That wasn’t completely true. He remembered brown hair and light colored eyes that didn’t miss anything. The guy had been attractive in a could-totally-kill-you kind of way, but he would under no circumstances call that man ‘cute.’

“Pfft.” Darcy starts eating the last of her pancakes. “There’s always time for that.”

Steve rolls his eyes and licks the whipped cream off his fork. “I think your priorities need some work, Darc.”

“Nah, my priorities are great. Be honest, you were too busy staring at Stark’s ass and trying not to swoon. You can admit it, I think everyone on the planet has.”

And wasn’t that just a great thought. He could literally have anyone, why would he want a runt like Steve? He wasn’t kissing anyone, though; he was kissing you. Ugh, shut up, Steve. Don’t ruin it before it even starts.

He doesn’t signify Darcy’s comment with a response, just gives her a baleful glance. She cackles. “What are you gonna do, hot lips?”

Steve puts his elbow on the table and rests his chin in his palm, sighing. “I have no idea.”

But whatever happened, he really, really hoped it involved kissing Tony some more. Once was not enough.

* * *

When Tony drags himself from bed it’s past ten and he feels lethargic from sleeping for more than the couple of hours at a time he’s used to. His bed feels cold and empty in a way it hasn’t in months. Before he and Pepper even officially broke up, Tony had started sleeping in the penthouse instead of the bedroom in the apartment they shared on the floor above his workshop.

He had fallen asleep on the couch most nights and all his stuff was still downstairs. It hadn’t mattered that he was doing it because he was worried about waking Pepper from his nightmares. It had not been a good sign that instead of sleeping next to his amazing girlfriend, in their ergonomic, memory foam bed, Tony laid out on a couch that was barely good for sitting.

After they split, Tony moved back upstairs, Pepper kept their apartment when she was working out of the New York office, and Tony got a new couch. It wasn’t fair to blame a piece of furniture for his breakup, but he hadn’t liked the stupid thing anyway.

After putting on his robe, the brown and gold one that had belonged to Howard which Tony kept for some god awful reason after clearing out his parent’s house in LA, Tony takes the stairs down in search of coffee.

He stops halfway because Natalie (or whoever She isn’t) is sitting on his couch, legs crossed, reading a magazine. He’s going to have to replace another couch. Tony resumes his descent and heads for the kitchen. “Where’s the Green Arrow wanna be?”

“Home. I bought coffee.”

He paused again, debating the merits of accepting coffee from a duplicitous snake and having to make it himself. His desire for caffeine wins out and Tony joins Natasha in the sunken living room, taking a paper to-go cup on the coffee table, and settling into one of the armchairs. “What agency do you work for?”

A sighs drifts out from behind the magazine before Natasha lowers it, dropping it onto the couch next to her. “SHIELD.”

“Fury. I should have known.” Tony narrows his eyes, drumming his fingers against the arms of the chair. Of course it was SHIELD. Just another way his dad was trying to screw him from beyond the grave. “It should have seemed too good to be true that a body guard with your qualifications was willing to play secretary, but I wasn’t exactly in my right mind at the time, your background check came up clean, and Pepper really liked you,” he says, the accusation plain. You played us. When we were down, you played us.

“I like Pepper, too. I even like you Stark.”

“Natalie— that even your real name—you’ll excuse me if I don’t believe a goddamn word you say.”

“It’s Natasha. And I don’t blame you for that, Stark. But you cut SHIELD off—”

“Oh, please, don’t blame this on me. I got out of the weapons game. I had no reason to do business with SHIELD anymore.”

“You cut us off,” she continues, like Tony hadn’t interrupted. “Stane had been dealing on the black market, you completely changed directions. And after Afghanistan there were rumors.”

“Yeah, about that. Where were you when Stane was selling my missiles to terrorists? Or when he had me kidnapped? Or when he tried to kill me after the Ten Rings didn’t get the job done? If I’m so important.” He stops, replays the conversation so far. “And what rumors are you talking about,” he says, slowly.

Natasha unfolds slowly, leaving Tony wondering how he hadn’t seen it before, the way she moved. Because she’d gained your trust by the time you stopped being too messed up to ask questions. She braces her elbows on her thighs, leaning forward, green eyes intent. “I wasn’t involved with SI until last year, but SHIELD dropped the ball. The Ten Rings had been on the radar for years and someone should have looked more closely at where their weapons were coming from. But I can’t change that. That was why SHIELD wanted to keep an eye on you; you have to admit, it looked suspicious after everything.

“As for the rumors,” she says, eyes dipping meaningfully down to his chest where it’s covered by the robe and his t-shirt beneath. He feels his jaw clench. SHIELD had their hands everywhere, one of their operatives could have been with the rescue team, the medical staff, anyone after he was pulled from the desert. “Satellite pictures from the area around where you were finally located showed something very interesting coming out of a cave and shooting fire at a bunch of terrorists before flying off.”

Tony nods his head slowly. “That’s interesting. I don’t know anything about that, though. Was a little busy being dehydrated and not dying. But if you find out what it was, I wouldn’t mind you sliding the intel my way. I’m not too happy Bakaar is still at the top of the country’s Most Wanted list and not six feet under.”

“Stark.” He started to get up, but something in her tone made him stop and look at her. “We’re on the same side here.”

“No,” he says, standing. “No, I don’t think we are.”

Tony walks into the kitchen and throws the untouched coffee she brought in the trash, starts making a fresh post in the coffeemaker like he first intended. Petty? Maybe. Did he care? Nope.

“Fury wants a meeting,” she tells him, standing on the other side of the island. Doesn’t sound happy about being the messenger. Well, he isn’t happy about her message.

“He can keep waiting,” he snaps, turning to face her. They hadn’t been friends, exactly, but Tony had trusted her as much as he trusted anyone. Just like he had always trusted Stane. He was starting to think he was a horrible judge of character.

“You want to go after the Ten Rings in that suit you’re building? SHIELD can help.”

“I don’t need your help. I have a JARVIS.” His smile is small and mean. He turns back to the coffee maker. Why isn’t he throwing her out?

“They still have your weapons.” It’s the one thing she could say to break through his anger. He keeps his back to her, but she must know she has him because she keeps talking. “Stockpiles. I can get you the intel we have on where they are. And all of Bakaar’s movements over the last year.”

“In exchange for what?”

“Fury wants access.”

“To?” Tony grabs a mug from the cabinet, making more noise than he strictly needs to. “Cause he’s not getting anything about the suit that I’m neither confirming nor denying exists.”

Or the ARC reactor, for that matter. It was proprietary technology and he wasn’t ready for it to be released on a broader scale yet. He might have considered installing a reactor at one of SHIELD’s US offices, but if he knew Fury (and he did) the man would get someone to try and reverse engineer it and succeed where Stane had failed in taking the tech Tony wanted to use to make people’s lives better and turn it into a weapon.

Not happening. Not while he was breathing.

If he could get inside SHIELD, though… their mainframe wasn’t connected to any outside systems, which meant it could only be hacked from the inside. If he got access, Tony could just take the information he wanted. Play the player.

“Fury know about the suit.” Natasha sounds exasperated. Poor thing.

“He thinks he knows.” Unless Fury had hacked JARVIS, which wasn’t possible (and that wasn’t just his ego talking—no, really) even with Natasha on the inside, he couldn’t have more than speculation. And maybe the first suit. Tony meant to go back and retrieve it, but never had. Too many other things happening: trying to get back into his life after three months in captivity which was both no time and too long, ignoring everything that was wrong with him, Pepper and Rhodey hovering and, well, building the new suit.

There had also been the not so insignificant issue of the ARC reactor powering the electromagnet he was using to save his life trying to kill him—slowly poisoning his body. As Alanis Morissette said, “Isn’t it ironic?”

No, Fury couldn’t have anything concrete on the current prototype. Natasha didn’t have access to his workshop and JARVIS would have picked up on anyone trying to get information off the building’s servers. But he might have the dumbed down, cave version and that was… not nothing. Damnit.

Tony needed to find out what Fury did know. Pouring a cup of coffee, Tony glances at Natasha. She got a hip propped against the island, arms crossed. He looked away, staring into the depths of the mug as the dark brew filled it. “Have him call me, we’ll work out the details. Me, not Steve, he gets left out of this.”

“Stark, what are you—”

“No,” he cuts Natasha off, leveling a glare at her when he turns to lean on the counter behind him. “You lost the right to have this conversation with me. Get out.”

The two alphas stare at each other for tense seconds before Natasha straightens, arms dropping to her sides. “Fine. Just be careful.”

She turns to walk toward the elevator, but pauses, tossing a glance over her shoulder. “I’m staying here until I find a replacement.”

“You don’t get to make demands.”

“It’s not your choice to make; I already talked to Pepper. You have a problem with it, take it up with her.” The elevator doors open at her prompt.

“What are you going to tell Bruce?” Tony can’t let her get the last word.

The doors were almost closed when he spoke and Natasha holds out of hand to stop them. Mouth pursed, she stares. Finally, she says, “He has nothing to do with this. Steve stays out of this, so does Bruce.”

“I don’t know if Bruce would agree with you there. He doesn’t exactly have the best history with the government.” Natasha just shakes her head and the elevator doors cut her off from view. Bruce is not going to be happy about this turn of events. Hey, your would-be girlfriend is a super secret spy working for one of the organizations trying to hunt you down. Please, don’t turn into a giant green rage monster and destroy my tower.

However Natasha was going to ha dale that she better do it delicately and soon before he found out from someone else. Tony sure wasn’t going to be the one to stir that particular pot.

Tony never thought he would think the words in a million years, but was it Monday yet? If he wasn’t worried about coming on too strong, Tony would just show up at Steve’s place with pizza and beer or something. Wasn’t that how normal people spent time together?

Instead, he took his coffee back upstairs to get dressed. He had a flight test to do and plans to infiltrate SHIELD to make.

* * *

_So, yeah, everything is great. I can’t believe it’s almost Thanksgiving. Do you get special meals over there for the holiday? I can’t remember what you said the last time you were deployed during Thanksgiving. Like freeze dried turkey and powdered cranberry sauce or something?_

__

__

Your mom invited me over again, but I think it’s just because she wants more help to wrangle all your nieces and nephews and bake the twelve million pies she always insists on. Who needs that much pie?

_~~I have something to tell you. Don’t get mad~~ ~~It’s not that bad, I promise. It’s just complicated.~~ ~~My new boss kissed me~~ ~~My boss and I kissed~~ ~~Tony Stark and I kissed and I think maybe I want to do it again and more~~_

Steve crumpled the letter and threw it in the trash. He’d write a new one later. Steve bundled up and grabbed his wallet, his keys, and walked to the corner store down the street to stock up on snacks and bottled water for his heat. Picked up a pizza because he had a craving and needed the calories and it meant he won’t need to leave his apartment tomorrow.

Binge watching shows on Netflix and eating leftover pizza in bed sounds like the perfect way to spend the day before his heat starts. Going through heats alone is exhausting. Steve would know because he always spends them alone, just him and his dildo for two day, synthetic alpha pheromones sprayed on his pillows.

Why did the thought seem so much sadder this time around?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on a roll right now. I think Steve and Tony really want to bone cause next chapter is PORN. Porn with plot, but porn. I haven't written porn in a while and this is my first foray into omegaverse porn, so I am going to take my time with this, but it is coming (pun intended). 
> 
> More Steve (and by extension Bucky) backstory cause I want to get it out of the way. And about that, I know Steve and Bucky live in Brooklyn Heights in cannon, but I moved them to Flatbush because I needed a Catholic school and there wasn't really one that fit what I was looking for in Brooklyn Heights. I like to go with realistic as much as I can when I write. I research the fuck out of everything that I can. I literally looked up a scientific explanation for how the palladium poisoning Tony gets works. Which is you're interested is here: https://scienceonblog.wordpress.com/2017/09/28/palladium-toxicity-in-iron-man-2
> 
> If you're curious about the robe Tony is wearing you can find that here: https://www.digitalspy.com/movies/a853405/iron-man-2-easter-egg-agent-carter-tony-stark/


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of sex. This ended up being just over 8k words. o_o There's some plot and stuff, but the internet is for (fill in the blank and you get what this chapter is about). 
> 
> Hopefully it makes up for the fact that it might be another chapter or two before anything more between the sheets action happens. Eh? Eh? :D

Steve jerks awake, his body nothing but one giant ache. His skin was hot, sweat beading along the surface. There was slick cooling on the inside of his thighs, down his crack, and on the sheet under him, but his skin was so overheated it was welcome. A groan works its way out of his throat when he moves and realizes he's fallen asleep with his dildo in his ass and the knot was still inflated. His overly sensitive nerve endings give a twinge. His arm feels like lead when he lifts it, reaching between his spread thighs to push the button that deflates the fake knot, sighing in relief when the thing slides from his body. 

 

He needed to get up. The pressure on his bladder was becoming unbearable (maybe that was what woke him up?) and his mouth was drier than burnt toast. Mmm, toast. His stomach gives a forlorn grumble. God, he was hungry. When was the last time he ate? Yesterday sometime. The itch at the base of his spine had started in the middle of the night. He woke up in the nest he’d built in a frenzy before falling asleep, on his stomach with his ass presented to an alpha that wasn’t there. Steve had been so out of it at first he started whining because no one was touching him. But he was used to it now so, wtf, mate? Maybe the remnants of a dream? 

 

His two boyfriends in school hadn’t been able to be near him because his mom put him on lock down. Literally, locked him in his room, nailed his window shut. Cause premarital sex was a no-no and she she was leanient in a lot of ways (not forcing him to go to confession when she caught him eating meat on Fridays during lent), but that was her line in the sand. He had never told her the ship with his virginity had sailed away when he was sixteen, with the guy she hadn’t let him go to prom with. Oops.

 

The one guy Steve had dated since he graduated hadn’t even warranted asking, Steve just made excuses about why he couldn’t see him. The guy had to have known; what other reason did an omega have to hole up for two days every month? But neither one of them mentioned it and their relationship fizzled. Steve hadn’t even been broken up about it. Was just glad he could stop lying and schleping up to the Bronx, cause the guy didn’t “do Brooklyn”, whatever the fuck that meant. Snob.  Brooklyn was obviously the superior borough.

 

Steve flops onto his side, rubbing his face against the pillow and fading smell of  _ alpha _ . Except—his nose twitches, he inhales. There was no undertone of fake chemicals and there was a button digging into his cheek. His eyes flutter open and Steve realizes his clothes from Friday (button down, sport coat,  _ and  _ pants) were in his nest. When they hell had that happened? At least that explained why the ‘alpha’ he was smelling seemed both familiar and foreign. It was Tony he was searching for on his clothes and he picked scents up differently when he was in heat. 

 

This was slightly embarrassing. No one knew except for him but still… This was pathetic. He had reached an all time low, going all heat crazed omega over his boss, even if his boss (who had kissed him, some part of his brain just had to point out) didn’t know. Steve takes another pull of Tony’s barely there scent before moving away with a sound of disgust and pushing himself up to sit on shaky arms. He had just managed to swing his legs over the side of the bed when Steve realizes the sound he thought was ringing in his ears was knocking. At his door. This was becoming a bad habit. 

 

It had to be Darcy, but if she didn’t have a box full of Chinese food even if it was—he checked his phone, notices he had a bunch of missed calls—11 am, Steve was telling her to leave. He was not in the mood and knew he was being pissy, but Darcy was an omega—she would understand, right? 

 

Takes more effort than normal to stand and Steve almost falls over when he tries to put on a pair of sweatpants, but he was up and the pertinent bits were covered so good enough. There was no way in hell he was putting on a shirt. He was too hot for that. 

 

The knocking was persistent and making his head pound in time. “Yeah, yeah I’m coming.” 

 

When Steve pulls open the door, a blast of cold air hits him and his eyes slide shut. He might have moaned and he was definitely swaying, clutching the door in one hand, the jamb in the other, holding on for dear life so he didn’t end up on the floor. Would it be a bad idea to just leave his door open? Probably. That did not sound advisable, but it was tempting. 

 

“Well, this is awkward,” a voice that was not Darcy’s voice says. A voice that was very male. A voice Steve had been imagining whispering dirty things in his ear the first four times he came. His eyes pop open and there was Tony, dressed in a black suit with an Iron Maiden T-shirt underneath, a pair of sunglasses with blue-tinted frames perched on his nose. His hair was sticking out in wild spikes like he’d repeatedly run his hands through it. And he was staring at Steve, his dark eyes wide behind the glasses and running up and down Steve’s body like a caress, lips parted slightly. 

 

“Tony?” Steve asks even though he knows damn well who it is, but there was a chance this was all a hallucination. Did heat and excessive loneliness in omegas cause hallucinations? His mom had been worried about Steve being alone before she died. Maybe this was why? He shakes his head. Focus. “What are you doing here?” 

 

“You weren’t at work and you didn’t answer my calls. I got... worried.” Tony sounds distracted and his eyes are cataloguing every inch of him. Under different circumstances, Steve might have been self conscious, but right now he just wants to preen. He shifts on his feet, eyes drifting shut for a moment, and fills his lungs with Tony’s scent, so much more potent than it was on his clothes. He smells so different right now, not just the cologne he normally smelled like, but the smell of just Tony underneath, strong and potent and alpha, and Steve wants to curl up to his chest and breath him in. 

 

“I’m on heat leave,” he tells Tony, or maybe mumbles. His head was fuzzy, swimming. He couldn’t tell if he was speaking at a normal volume and it was really the least of his worries because there was slick starting to drip out of his ass again and he clenches trying to delay the inevitable. It was Tony’s fault, being right there, smelling so good, being so damn alpha. He wants to whine. And then he does, saying, “I put it in your calendar. Didn’t you check?” 

 

“No. I don’t look at that thing. It’s why I have an assistant.” Tony’s trying to make a joke, Steve thinks. Steve doesn’t laugh.

 

He wants to crawl back into his nest and fuck himself into oblivion. Food didn't matter anymore, even. But he did still need to pee. Like really badly. “I’m—I’ll be right back. Just hold on.” He couldn’t have this conversation while feeling like his insides were going to explode  _ and  _ when all he wanted to do was jump Tony. He staggers to his tiny bathroom, letting Tony do whatever. It’s kind of rude to leave someone standing outside the door like that, in the cold, but he just doesn’t care right now. 

 

Hand on the wall behind the toilet so he doesn’t sink to the floor, Steve blinks bleary eyes. When he’s done and washed his hands, Steve brushes his teeth because Tony was here and maybe he was hoping for something. A kiss goodbye or… sex. That would be good. Great. His heat was overriding his Catholic guilt about wanting to sleep with someone he’d known less than a month and only kissed once. 

 

Tony was standing by his bed when he opens the bathroom door, staring down at his nest, which was 1) a mess, 2) had his slick covered dildo  _ right there _ , and 3) still holds his rumpled clothes that smell of Tony bunches up on his pillow. 

 

He makes a sound, something hurt and worried, reduced to pure instinct because Tony wasn’t seeing his best work. He could build better nests. He could, but he didn’t know Tony was going to show up so this was the alpha’s damn fault. And seriously Tony needed to either touch Steve or leave. Tony turns then, eyes no longer obscured by sunglasses, burning with such naked want that Steve freezes in place halfway between the bathroom and where Tony stands. Tony blinks and it was gone, though, like a mask slide in place obscuring his emotions, and Steve tips forward like Tony’s hold had been physical. Then Tony is touching him, catching Steve before he falls, and his hands feel so good even though they’re too warm. He doesn’t want Tony to stop touching him ever. Didn’t matter how crazy the thought is, if it was just heat hormones talking, it felt right. 

 

“Let’s get you back in bed and then I’ll,” Tony’s gaze flicks to his dildo again, hands holding him a little tighter. “Then I’ll get out of your hair.” 

 

Tony doesn’t sound like he wants to go and Steve doesn’t want him to either. Screw appropriate length of time to know someone before falling into bed. It was 2011, omegas from past eras had marched to give him the right to fuck anyone he wanted, whenever he wanted. And to vote and own property and have access to birth control and a bunch of other stuff, but that wasn’t important right now when there was a wet spot on the back of his sweats and his dick was getting hard. After Tony helps him climb onto his bed and straightens up, hands releasing their grip on Steve’s biceps, telling him, “Sorry I showed up like this. That wasn’t, uh, I shouldn’t have. If you need anything call me and I’ll have Happy—no, someone. Someone that’s not Happy bring it by,” Steve fists a hand in his shirt. 

 

“Is Happy outside?” Tony is studiously looking at a point above his head. This could seriously blow up in his face, what Steve is planning to ask. If he’s reading the situation wrong, Tony could get offended (though he doesn’t strike Steve as someone who’s easily offended, especially not from a come on) and fire him (Tony didn’t seem to have any problems firing his assistants, having done it six times before Steve came along). 

 

So, it was a risk, but a calculated one. He thinks. Steve really doesn’t think he’s reading this wrong, and Tony had kissed him, you don’t kiss someone like that if you’re not attracted to them. Tony wasn’t a stranger to casual hook-ups either (Steve had googled some stuff yesterday, so sue him) and he also wasn’t a stranger to sleeping with his assistant, Steve thinks with a wince.  _ Don’t think about Ms. Potts right now.  _ He was about to proposition her ex, thinking about her was not conducive to success here. 

 

“No, I drove. Why?” 

 

“Stay.” Normally Steve would want to discuss expectations and whatnot before hand (what with all his experience with one night stands—aka one time), but he couldn’t work himself up to be bothered to try. Tony’s eyes snap to his face. He looks confused, but also a bit hopeful? And his hair is still sticking up, making him look rumpled and sexy. “Don’t leave. Stay here, with me.” He sounds like an idiot. Who else would Tony be staying with at Steve’s apartment? 

 

Tony’s face goes blank. “You know what you’re asking, right?” 

 

Steve rolls his eyes. “I’m in heat, Tony; I’m not dumb.” 

 

“That’s not what I meant. I just—” Tony blows out a breath, eyes meeting Steve’s then skittering away again. “I don’t want to take advantage.” 

 

“And I reiterate,” Steve said, purposely using a SAT word, “I’m in heat; I’m not dumb. Things might be a little hazy right now, but I’m still capable of making my own decisions.” Steve feels a flush that had nothing to do with his heat warm his cheeks. “I can’t stop thinking about the kiss. Haven’t stopped thinking about it since it happened, actually.” 

 

Suddenly, Tony is boxing him in, a hand on either side of his head, expression searching. His eyes are so dark, pupils expanded, pulling Steve in. “Really?” Steve nods, his own eyes going half mast, breath coming quicker at Tony’s proximity. Every inhale brings him another dose of Tony’s scent and Steve wants to bury his nose in the gland in Tony’s neck, mouth the one in his wrist, until all he could sense was Tony. 

 

Tony draws in a deep breath, chest expanding, leaning closer until their noses touch. He could probably smell how slick Steve was getting. Steve tips his head back, starting to purr, showing off the line of his neck, and Tony’s eyes narrow. An answering growl rumbling from deep in Tony’s chest, he asks, “You have condoms?” 

 

You don’t need them, he thinks for one crazy second. He’s on the pill. But, no, that’s irresponsible. Even if he doesn’t have to worry about getting pregnant, that’s not the only thing to worry about. He and Tony didn’t know each other (Remember that, Steve?), not really. There’s non-hot, boner killing things like STIs to consider, even though the thought of Tony sliding into him bare, filling his ass up with come while they were knotted together sounds so amazing. Steve thinks about gross pictures from Sex Ed class to stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. 

 

“In the drawer,” he gasped because this was happening. He wanted it so much. Wanted Tony to touch him and fill him and knot him. A condom won’t make it any less amazing, honestly. And if Tony fucks half as good as he kissed, it will be amazing. Steve hadn’t had sex in  _ years _ , it had just been him and his B.O.B. And this would be heat sex, everything was supposed to be more intense, and he couldn’t wait. 

 

Tony kisses him, a hand fisted in Steve’s hair. It’s rough and uncoordinated, teeth clicking together, and Steve doesn’t care. It’s perfect because it’s Tony and Steve is so needy, so desperate, deprived. Tony uses his hold on Steve’s hair to get a better angle. Runs his tongue over Steve’s lips until they part with a sigh and then Tony’s slips inside. Steve lets himself touch Tony the way he hadn’t in the car, sliding his hands down his chest then up the back of his shirt until he’s touching skin, reveling in it. Tony shifts, moving onto the bed, until he’s between Steve’s thighs. He feels surrounded but not trapped. Protected and safe and taken care of. He hooks a leg over Tony’s hip trying to get closer while Tony trails kisses down his neck. 

 

“Shhh,” Tony says, against the delicate skin he’s mouthing. Because Steve was chanting  _ please, please, please.  _ “I’ve got you.” 

 

There would be bruises on his skin from Tony’s mouth later, which was nice, but Steve was so empty. Everything felt good, the hands and lips touching him, but Tony could tease him later. They had two days if Tony was going to stay for all of it (he really hoped he was staying for all of it), but that was what he meant when he asked if Steve knew what he what this meant, right? Cause alphas didn’t like leaving an omega in heat once they started servicing them And Steve got that, was banking on it, and was one hundred percent totally on board about getting boned by Tony for a couple days.

 

But Steve wanted to move things along cause he could feel the outline of Tony’s erection pressing into his belly. It felt so much bigger than his dildo; Steve neither knew nor cared if it actually was, he just knew that he needed Tony inside him. He made a sound of frustration and pushed Tony back a little, wincing when the hand in his hair didn’t let go right away. 

 

Disappointment started warring with the desire on Tony’s face when he sat back on his heels and Steve wanted to shout “No, no!” Cause he wasn’t stopping, the opposite, in fact, except words seemed to be off the table just then. He was so wet, it was soaking into the soft, blue cotton of his pants, making the fabric stick to his skin, and his hole was clenching, begging for something to fill it. Instead of trying to articulate any of that, Steve just took advantage of the space he’d made and rolled over. Chest flat on the bed, back arched, knees spread, he raised his ass up. Presenting for Tony, for the alpha behind him, who needed to give Steve what he wanted  _ right now _ . Steve might be the one in the submissive position, but this was a demand, and the groan Tony let out, sounding almost pained, told Steve Tony didn’t mind. 

 

Steve hears rustling and turns his head to lay his cheek against the pillow, watching Tony’s jacket and shirt hit the floor. There’s a thunk, followed in quick succession by another, and ugh Tony's had his shoes on his bed, in his nest. If Steve hadn’t already been planning on rebuilding it later, he would be pissed. When Tony’s hands cup his hips, Steve pushes up, increasing the pressure, sighing. His sweats are dragged down, blunt nails scraping the skin of his hips, the outside of his thighs. He lifts his knees one at a time to help Tony strip him naked. 

 

Tony’s hands retrace their path in reverse, continuing past the slight dip of his waist, down his sides. A kiss is pressed into the middle of his spine, against the surgical scar that runs the length of his back. They end up pressed together from chest to pelvis, the front of Tony’s pants covered thighs pressed to the back of Steve’s bare ones. Tony nuzzles Steve’s neck, his beard abrading Steve’s skin. “I better not be dreaming.” 

 

“You’re not,” Steve tells him, his laugh morphing into a gasp when Tony’s teeth tease the shell of his ear, laving the sting away. 

 

“Thank fuck.” 

 

“Language,” he teases, reaching a hand back to plunge into Tony’s hair. There’s gel or something in it, but it’s soft where the product hasn’t dried stiff. 

 

Tony huffs in amusement, forehead dropping against Steve’s shoulder, his warm breath against his skin making making Steve shiver. “Seriously?” 

 

“Don’t want me commenting on your potty mouth, give me something else to focus on.” Potty mouth? He sounds like his mom, which… he did not want to be thinking about his mom right now. Jesus.

 

Steve spreads his knees further, tilting his pelvis so the ridge of Tony’s cock, still trapped behind his zipper, presses between the globes of Steve’s ass. He wishes he could see Tony, all of him, but not enough to turn over. He could make up for it later. Just really wants it like this the first time, being made so aware of the differences in their size. He usually hates how much smaller he was than pretty much everyone on the planet, but with Tony it felt good. 

 

“Impatient, are we?” Tony asks, idly, but he puts enough space between them to take off his belt, which gets thrown on the floor. Steve hears the sound of a zipper descending, the crinkle of a condom wrapper, and when their bodies are once again plastered against each other, the head of Tony’s latex covered dick nudges the back of Steve’s balls. Tony is still wearing his pants, just moved them enough to free his erection and the contrast between how naked Steve is, and Tony being half dressed, is a serious turn on. He can feel another wave of slick leak from his hole and Tony hums. “Yeah, you are. That’s good. Cause got to admit, so am I.” 

 

“Mmm,” Steve murmures. “I couldn’t tell, what with how slow you’re moving.” 

 

“Behave.” Tony’s swats his hip, not enough to hurt, just enough to sting a little in reprimand. Alphas could be so touchy. “I’m trying to savor this. I’ve been thinking about it—you like this—for a while.” 

 

“You have?” He asks, surprised. Steve shouldn’t be, maybe, after that kiss and with the position he’s currently in. But he is. There was still the niggling thought that he was just a rebound and any omega would do. That was future Steve’s problem though. 

 

“More than I should,. A lot more,” Tony says, running his hands up and down Steve’s back. Steve relaxes into the touch, a purring blob. This is nice and all, but he really does want Tony to get on with it. 

 

“Uh, seeing as we’re about to have sex, I think you get a pass for fantasizing about me.” Steve might have thought about it a time or two, even before what happened Friday, homself. Steve was only human and Tony was really good looking. Like “Helloooooo, nurse” level of hot.

 

“Good.” Tony snorts, then sits back again and Steve grumbles at the loss of his weight. He palms Steve’s ass, one cheek in each hand, squeezes. Thumbs running along the valley in between, spreading slick, he asks, “Where the hell have you been hiding this thing?” He slaps one cheek to emphasize what’s he’s referring to, making it jiggle. 

 

“Hey,” he says, indignantly, but the protest is weak, cause Tony’s thumbs keep brushing the whorl between his cheeks, which is pulled open slightly and on display from Tony’s caressing hands. He knows his ass is big, can’t really do much about it. As soon as he presented, so had his butt. 

 

“No, no, I meant that in a good way. Cause, damn, your ass is… fantastic,” he praises, stroking the slopes, pressing a kiss to his tailbone. “Even better than I imagined and, trust me, I have a very well developed imagination.” 

 

Okay, the compliments, nice. He liked being praised as much as the next omega, but he’s not sticking his ass in the air because he wants  _ compliments.  _ “Would you just fuck me already.” Steve tosses a glare over his shoulder, looking up into Tony’s amused face. 

 

“Now who has a potty mouth?” He tsks. “But since you said please.” 

 

Between one moment and the next, Tony has lined the head of his cock up to Steve’s entrance, free hand firm on his hip, and thrusts in slow and steady. He doesn’t stop until he bottoms out. Steve is still a bit loose from the  rounds with his dildo earlier, but he’d been right; Tony is bigger, stretching him wide. It doesn’t hurt, he’s all slick and relaxed, but it’s a lot to take (pun intended) and he’s thankful Tony gives him time to adjust to his girth, how deep inside of Steve he is. Caressing Steve’s back while he pants, fists clenching in the sheets. 

 

“Move,” Steve tells Tony, but his voice is muffled by the pillow he hadn’t realized he was biting. 

 

“What was that, sweetheart?” Tony leans over to whisper the words in his ear. The move shifts Tony inside him, putting pressure on his prostate, punching a moan out of Steve. 

 

Steve pushes the pillow case out of his mouth with his tongue. “Move,” he says, growling and baring his teeth, wiggling his hips. 

 

“Aw, kitten, you’re so cute.” Whatever has been holding Tony back broke, along with his control. He pulled out until just the head remained inside, then slammed back in. Steve has to throw a hand against the wall to brace himself against the powerful snaps of Tony’s hips, but he still rocks forward, mewling from the pleasure of it, helpless to do anything but lie there and take it. 

 

When Tony takes Steve’s dick in his hand, stroking it in time with his thrusts, Steve sees stars. A litany of disjointed words was playing through his mind.  _ Oh, fuck, God, please, so good.  _ Then he realized he was saying them out loud. 

 

“Are you gonna come for me, little kitten?” Tony asked, voice guttural. Steve couldn’t have answered even if he were capable because Tony pulls him into a kiss. It’s overwhelming, the pleasure lighting him up inside. Tony was everywhere, he was everything, Steve’s world shrunk down to the feel of Tony in his ass, the hands stroking his back, the inside of his thighs, the tongue thrusting into his mouth. 

 

The orgasm catches Steve off guard. Tony breaks the kiss with a curse, the brutal rhythm he set stuttering when the muscles inside Steve’s channel clench hard. Steve thrusts into Tony’s hand, spilling over his fingers as more slick runs down his thighs. 

 

Tony doesn’t stop so his orgasm keeps going until he’s whimpering from the pleasure. But Tony hasn’t come yet, still hard inside him, stretching him just right. He wants it, wants to feel Tony lose control, feel his come fill him up even through the condom (which still makes him a little sad, damnit). He’s reduced to weak moans when Tony flattens them both against the mattress, and he hadn’t realized his legs were shaking. “Tony,” he can’t help but complain cause apparently there’s such a thing as too much pleasure. 

 

“I know, sweetheart. Just—just let me…” Tony pants, his scent filling Steve’s nose making him feel almost high. Then he feels it, the base of Tony’s cock swelling as his knot forms, hampering his movement, reducing Tony to shallow rocking. Steve’s hole clamps down, trying to take it deeper, keep Tony inside him, and he’s sobbing because it hurts but feels so good, coming again somehow. Tony is coming, too, groaning, arms going tight around Steve. Soft words are whispered into Steve’s neck and he doesn’t even care that Tony’s crushing him under his full weight. 

 

Tony rolls them on their sides, keeping up the litany of words that Steve can’t make out, through his shuddering breaths. He’s held and petted until Tony’s knot comes down enough for him to pull out, eliciting a grunt from Steve. Getting knotted while in heat was so much different than taking a knot outside of it, and Steve hadn’t let an alpha do that since high school. His ass hurts and he feels twitchy and exhausted. 

 

Lips are pressed to his forehead. “Don’t move, I’ll be right back,” Tony tells him, rolling out of the bed. How he can stand is a mystery. Steve doesn’t really sleep, but he kind of floats, until Tony comes back with a bottle of water and tells him to drink. Once he’s satisfied Steve had drank enough, his alpha—no,  _ Tony _ , wraps himself back around Steve like an octopus, peppering kisses along his temple, his jaw, the gland in his neck. Tony hadn’t bit Steve cause that wasn’t what this was. He wasn’t his alpha, they weren’t bonding, for fuck’s sake, Steve didn’t even want that. It was just heat hormones and getting dicked so good making him soft.

 

At least now the question about whether Tony Stark fucked as good as he kissed had been answered. Better, he fucked better than he kissed. 

* * *

In between bouts of amazing, mind blowing sex, Steve and Tony just… hung out. They watched movies they ended up not finishing, making out like teenagers, before Tony would grab another condom and push back inside Steve. It was starting to get to the point where he felt empty without him. Tony ordered food, some of it things Steve hadn’t ever had before, Indian and Thai, but also pizza and Italian food so good it made Steve moan. Which would just set them both off again. 

 

Steve didn’t even know some of the positions Tony put him in existed or that he was capable of bending into them (a few he wasn’t because, well, part of his spine was fused). The knot got easier to take and made Steve moan like a whore when he felt it stretching his rim. Which Tony, of course, loved. The things he whispered in Steve’s ear at those moments got even filthier. 

 

Once after a nap, Steve woke up with his cheek pressed to Tony’s chest. The man’s body was as  sick as he seemed to think Steve’s ass was (and he really did love Steve’s ass and showed his appreciation a few times by shoving his tongue in it). Tony wasn’t bodybuilder ripped, but he was toned in a way Steve appreciated. Kind of reminded Steve of some of the statues at the MET, streamlined, with an understated strength. It was hard to believe sometimes that Tony was so much older than him, but that came with more experience and Steve was reaping the benefits. Happily. But there was something he was curious about… 

 

Steve had spread his hand across the center of Tony’s chest and felt him tense. “What is it?” He’d asked, stroking gently. There was something hard under the skin there that didn’t feel like bone. Steve had noticed it earlier, when he woke Tony up by sitting on his dick, and had to brace his hands on Tony’s chest for leverage. 

 

Tony had sighed, but he put down his phone and tucked his chin to his chest to look at Steve. He didn’t seem pleased to be having this conversation and Steve almost told him to forget it cause it didn’t matter, but Tony moved Steve’s hand lower so it rested on his abs, and... peeled his skin off? Steve had jolted, except no, that wasn’t it. He peeled something off, though, and underneath was a glowing, blue light. Tony tossed the covering aside, then tapped the thing in his chest with his fingers. It made a dull, metallic sound. 

 

“What…?” Steve had torn his eyes from it (he hadn’t meant to stare, really he hadn’t—it just caught him off guard) and looked up in time to see Tony’s face just… shut down. 

 

“Call it a souvenir from my captivity,” he told Steve, voice tight. “You know about that, I assume. Got a lot of press.” 

 

Steve nodded, then on impulse, reached up to cup Tony’s cheek and pulled him into a kiss. It was soft, offering comfort. Tony took it and deepened the kiss in gratitud, rolling on top of Steve to taste every inch of his mouth before kissing his way down Steve’s body. He’s made Steve come with his mouth, swallowing every drop, then rolled on a condom and fucking Steve until Tony came. Tony hadn’t covered the thing in his chest back up after that. 

 

It was late evening on Tuesday and Tony was spread out across Steve’s rebuilt nest (he hadn’t been able to take it anymore and made Tony get out of bed so he could fix it this morning before they curled up to eat leftover curry). Tony had explored every inch of Steve’s body with his hands and his mouth, and Steve really wanted to return the favor. This had been the best heat he ever had and it was starting to break. He didn’t feel as edgy and desperate as he had been. It was easier to concentrate now, too. 

 

Steve kisses his way down Tony’s chest, paying special attention to the scar tissue around what he now knew was a miniaturized version of the thing that powered the tower. Steve was horrified at the thought of Tony being filled with shrapnel and needing a magnet to keep it away from his heart. “Why don’t you just get it taken out?” Steve had asked earlier because he couldn’t not ask the question, it seemed obvious to Steve, but Tony had gone tense again.

 

“Maybe one day,” he told Steve then made any further questions impossible by kissing him, further distracting Steve by fingering him until he came all over his own chest. 

 

So now, Steve was showing his appreciation to the body that had made him feel so good, and the way Tony’s eyes darkened when Steve pressed his lips to the uneven skin before he moved on to take a nipple in his mouth made his chest warm. He was getting wet again and he hadn’t even gotten to Tony’s dick yet, which laid hard and flushed against Tony’s stomach. Steve had to press his thighs together when his hole started to spasm. He could feel Tony’s chuckle even if he couldn’t hear it, and glared. 

 

“Don’t be a grumpy kitten. Come here,” Tony said, picking Steve up by his waist. He was embarrassed by the squeaking sound he made when Tony turned him so he faced away, thighs straddling Tony’s lap. 

 

“I do not want to reverse cowboy right now, Tony,” he tells him looking over his shoulder. 

 

Tony smirks. “Not what I had in mind.” 

 

“Then what—oh.” Tony slides down the bed and pulls Steve’s hips back so Steve is practically sitting on his face. Tony had been fucking him for two days and the man put his tongue in Steve’s ass, but this makes him blush for some reason. Guess since he wasn’t so heat addled, he was able to feel embarrassed about Tony staring at his hole when he spreads Steve’s cheeks. He pitches forward onto his hands when he feels a tongue circle the furled skin. 

 

“Now we can both have some fun.” Tony sounds smug, the bastard. Steve rocks back when Tony licks him from his perineum to the top of his crack. Tony licks up the slick leaking out of his hole, little pleases noises falling from his lips and adding another level of sensation to his ministrations. “You taste so good, Steve.” 

 

Steve starts purring, lassitude working its way through his body. He has to force his eyes open after they slide shut. This had not been the plan, humping Tony’s face while his dick leaked precome onto Tony’s chest. He had just wanted to do something nice for Tony, the overbearing ass. Not that he’s going to move, cause… he’s not stupid. But he does grip the base of Tony’s cock, licking at the drop of pearly liquid beading on the tip. Steve smiles around the head of Tony’s cock as he slowly slides his mouth down Tony’s length, when he hears Tony curse and the hands on his hips clench. His skin was already mottled with bruises and that was going to add to the collection.

 

“Just like that, kitten,” Tony says, before burying his face back in Steve’s ass. One of his thumbs pulls at Steve’s rim and his tongue slips inside, thrusting. Steve moans around Tony’s dick. He can’t keep his hips still and he knows Tony could hold him in place if he wanted to, but he doesn’t, letting Steve fucking himself on Tony’s tongue. 

 

He gets lost in the dual sensations, taking Tony as far into his mouth as he can. He’s not expecting the two fingers Tony shoves in his ass along with his tongue and Tony’s cock hits the back of his throat when he rocks forward in surprise. He gags, coughing as he pulls back. 

 

“Shit, Steve. I’m sorry, baby.” Tony slides out from under him, pulling Steve up so he’s kneeling in front of Tony. Tony lifts his face, looking concerned. Brushes Steve’s hair back. “Are you alright?” 

 

“I’m fine. You didn’t have to stop.” 

 

“You were choking.” 

 

“Your dick isn’t _ that  _ big, Tony,” he tells him, teasing, trying to get Tony to stop worrying and go back to eating him out. Tony looks unimpressed and a little offended, but still very concerned. Steve rolls his eyes. “I just got caught off guard,” he reassures, shuffling his knees so their chests are touching. He doesn’t have an over abundance of experience giving blow jobs and Tony is bigger than the guys he’s been with before. That kind of multitasking was hard. Steve tilts his head, looking up at Tony through his lashes. “I was very much enjoying that.” 

 

“Were you?” Tony doesn’t sound like he believes Steve completely. But Steve’s breathing is back to normal, he’s fine, and he might be starting to come down from his heat, but he’s still horny. 

 

Steve nudges Tony until he’s lying back down, and lays on his belly between Tony’s legs. “I really wanted you to come in my mouth,” he confesses, hand stroking Tony’s dick which had softened a bit, cupping Tony’s balls in his other hand, looking at Tony up the length of his body. Tony starts breathing a bit harder and Steve alternates between pressing kisses to Tony’s cock and bathing it with little licks of his tongue like the kitten Tony’s been likening Steve to. 

 

“Did you?” Tony puts his hand on the back of Steve’s head, not guiding or trying to force Steve to do anything, just holding him. Steve nods, sucking on the head of Tony’s cock. His eyes slide shut when the taste of Tony hits his tongue. “If that’s what you want, kitten.” 

 

It makes Steve purr, getting what he wants, having this alpha at his mercy, and Tony must feel it, cause his head drops back on a moan, fingers flexing in Steve’s hair. Tony’s hips flex, pushings his cock up into Steve’s mouth, but not too deep. Just rocking. Steve doesn’t even think Tony’s aware he’s doing it, cause his other arm is flung over his eyes. It’s like he can’t help himself, and isn’t that a boost to Steve’s ego? Steve keeps purring, cause Tony likes it, shifting so he can take Tony deeper, bobbing his head, running his tongue up the shaft and around the head. “Fuck, Steve, baby. Don’t stop.” 

 

_ Wasn’t planning on it _ . Steve tightens his hand around the base of Tony’s cock, concentrates his efforts on the head when Tony’s breathing picks up even more. He sucks, tongues the slit, and when Steve lets his teeth scrape with the barest pressure against the ridge at the bottom, Tony shouts, hips pushing up. Steve presses down hard on Tony’s knot as come floods his mouth. He tries to swallow it all, moaning, but there’s so much and some of it trickles down his chin. 

 

He doesn’t realize he’s humping the bed, trying to get friction on his cock, until Tony says, “Come here,” when Tony’s softening dick slides from Steve’s mouth, the knot already deflating. Steve crawls up Tony’s body and melts into the kiss Tony pulls him into. He’s straddling Tony, his erection trapped between their bodies, and doesn’t resist when Tony encourages him to rock against him with the hold he has on Steve’s hips. One of Tony’s hands slides around, slips into the crevice between his cheeks, fingers circling his hole. 

 

Steve grunts when two fingers push inside, biting down on Tony’s lip. “Keep going,” Tony tells him when he stills and Steve resumes rutting against Tony’s abs. Breathy little moans are falling from his lips, his hands clutching at Tony’s hair so hard it has to hurt not that Tony say anything, and then Steve’s coming, clenching around Tony’s fingers. Tony keeps fingering him, prushing his prostate, until Steve begs him to stop. 

 

Tony wraps his arms around Steve tight, like he’s scared Steve will disappear. Silly, he’s not going anywhere; he lives here. Steve tucks his head into Tony’s neck, nudging at the scent glad in Tony’s neck with his nose. The man under him gives a pleased rumble. Before long Steve’s slipping back into sleep. 

 

The next time Steve wakes up, he realizes a few things: 1) he had been purring in his sleep like a blissed-out zombie and 2) Tony is wiping dried jizz off his stomach with a washcloth. He flushes and looks up. “Hey,” Tony says. He’s not smiling, but his eyes are crinkling at the corners like when he does, and Steve feels his lips curl in response. He stretches when Tony goes to dump the washcloth back in the bathroom, curling up on his side, and unabashedly watching Tony walk around his tiny studio, admiring the way he moves, how his muscles shift under his naked skin. 

 

When Steve raises his head, he realized Tony had asked him a question. He’s standing in front of the open refrigerator door, eyebrows raised, looking at Steve expectantly. “What?” 

 

Tony smirks, cocking a hip. He has an expression on his face that says  _ I know what you were thinking about, Steve.  _ “I said, you want pizza or the rest of the pasta?” 

 

“Um, pasta is good.” Tony nods, grabbing the takeout container from a restaurant Pepper had told Steve his first or second day was one of Tony’s favorites. Steve hadn’t thought about that until now, but the place was in Manhattan. How the hell did Tony get them to deliver out here? And did a place like that even deliver at all? Or, hell, had Happy dropped it off? He would never be able to look the man in the face again if he’d been to Steve’s apartment while is smelled like the inside of a whorehouse. 

 

Unaware of Steve’s mini-freakout, Tony dumps the pasta in a bowl, and pops it in the microwave. Steve plumps the pillows while he waits for Tony to bring him food that they’ll end up sharing, eating off the same fork cause they’ve been swapping bodily fluids so why not, and how novel is that? Having someone who fed him whatever meal this was--Dinner? Breakfast?-- in bed? His last boyfriend hadn’t done that. If Steve let himself he could get use to this.  _ You can let yourself. Tony had a good time, why wouldn’t he want a repeat?  _ Yeah, true. And even if it was limited to his heats that would be good. It didn’t have to mean anything.  _ So what are you really afraid of? _

 

Steve didn’t have an answer to that question. He shoves it away for later, another problem for future Steve, when Tony slips back into bed. He snuggles Steve up to his side and feeds him a forkful of pasta. Steve lets himself relax. He hasn’t had anything good in so long. He’s allowed to just enjoy this. 

* * *

Sometime in the middle of the night, while Tony is thrusting into Steve, with slow languid movements, and framing Steve’s face between his hands, his heat ends. His legs are wrapped around Tony’s hips, their mouths pressed together, foreheads touching. They aren’t exactly kissing, more like sharing breath and suddenly Steve wants to cry. The hands Tony runs through his hair feel reverent, his thrusts are careful, like Steve is something precious. It’s so different from the rough, almost animalistic sex they’ve been having for the past fourthy-eight hours. It’s not better or worse, it just feels like something has shifted. 

 

When Tony’s knot starts to swell inside him, it’s almost slow. Tony keeps rocking, and between the stimulation to his prostate and the feel of his hole being stretched by the knot, Steve comes, Tony following close behind. Tony keeps stroking him, petting his skin, and he’s vocalizing--not the growl Steve has heard so many times and come to love, but a deeper, softer sound, almost like Steve’s purr. Steve had never heard Tony make that sound before, had never heard any alpha make that sound before. It seems to echo around him, work it’s way through his body and down into his bones. It lulls him back to sleep. 

 

Steve rouses briefly when Tony gets up to dispose of the condom. When he comes back, Tony spoons him from behind, nuzzles his ear. Presses a kiss to Steve’s temple. “Go back to sleep,” Tony says, softly. Steve slips back under. 

 

When he wakes up at 6am on Wednesday morning to the sound of his alarm going off, Steve doesn’t automatically realize something is different. He stretches stiff, achy muscles, wishing he had a bath instead of just the standing shower. Eyes still closed, Steve smacks his phone until the alarm stops then reaches his hand behind him, searching. He comes up empty and frowns. 

 

Steve opened his eyes and turns over, but, no, the other side of the bed is empty. A quick visual search (there’s not many places to look), yields nothing. The bathroom door is even open and Steve can see from his spot on the bed that it’s empty. 

 

Tony wasn’t there. 

 

Steve sits up, checking the nightstand because maybe he left a note, picks up his phone but there are no new texts, no missed calls, no voicemails. 

 

_ “Did you seriously have to call me twelve times?” Steve asked, laughing. _

 

_ “I was worried!” Tony looks indignant.  _

 

_ “And after twelve calls you decided you just had to come here to check on your poor, helpless assistant to make sure I didn’t slip in the shower?”  _

 

_ “Eight percent of falls happen in the bathroom,” Tony informs him, seriously. “And three of those calls might have been while I was driving. It was on speaker,” he clarifies when Steve frowns. He sounds testy and disgruntled, and Steve presses a loud, smacking kiss to his cheek.  _

 

_ “Thank you, for checking up on me. Even if it was unnecessary and you could have avoided all that worry if you just looked at the digital calendar I spend hours updating—ah!” Tony pounces on him, there’s no other word for it, tickling Steve until he’s breathless and then he needs to find his inhaler. Tony goes down on him in apology.  _

 

All of Tony’s clothes are gone from the floor where they’d stayed the past two days because Tony hadn’t let him pick them up and fold them. It had driven him insane at the time (and he thinks that was why Tony did it), but now he wishes they were there. Maybe even just a sock. 

 

Steve sinks back down into his nest, which is rumpled and messy from Steve and Tony rolling around in it together. His face pinches, and he’s not going to cry. Steve is not a crier and there is no reason to get all weepy. He knew this could happen. It’s his own fault that all the things he’d pushed off for Future Steve are catching up to him. It was like buyer's remorse: as soon as the rose colored glasses of Steve’s heat was gone, Tony regretted what they did. 

 

Fine. It was fine. Could have been worse. He could have woken up to a clingy Tony who professed his undying love and Steve definitely did not want that. Nope nope. Relationships were hard, he had never been good at them, and he needed this job more than he needed sex. 

 

Except, he rolled over so he could groan into his pillow. Except now he needed to go to work and pretend like everything was fine. Like he didn’t want to smack his boss who had wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am-ed him (could near constant sex for two days be placed in that category?) and snuck out like a coward before the sun came up. 

 

Steve scowls up at the ceiling. His first mistake had been assuming that both of them were adults and capable of acting like it. And you know what they said about people who assumed. 

 

They had to go to work and sit their sore ass in their office chair and not curse out their boss so they didn’t lose their job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OF COURSE THINGS COULDN'T JUST BE EASY. Why would I do that? Things get better next chapter, I promise. And then some of the other things will progress. 
> 
> Also, I think I resolved my Rhodey issue. I know no one realized I had a Rhodey issue except for me, but I did and I figured it out. You'll see later. 
> 
> And on a completely unrelated note, I AM SO SAD. Because of my health issues, I haven't been able to go home for a visit yet, which means I haven't been to the Marvel exhibit at the Franklin Institute. I saw pictures from a friend that went and it was so amazing and I want to go. I have to find a way to get home during august because it ends September 2 (and maybe I can get my dad to pay for tickets cause broke college student, here). T_______T


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little fluff and a little angst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TFW you don't want to write a three page paper on the wage gap for your women's studies class that is due on friday, so you finish a chapter for your fan fic instead. >_>; 
> 
> Hope it doesn't suck lol

Tony realized he made a mistake halfway across the bridge back to Manhattan, first snowfall of the year dumping big white flakes on his windshield. His hands tightened around the steering wheel and he had to force himself not to turn back around. What would that accomplish? Tony had locked the door behind him when he left. He would have to wake Steve up to get back inside, if he would even be  _ allowed _ back in. And hadn’t he left to avoid that? 

 

Jolting awake from a nightmare, drenched in sweat, gasping for breath that in actuality he had no trouble getting Tony had forgotten where he was at first. The dreams seemed so damn real. He could feel the cloth against his mouth and nose, the water being poured over his face. Hear the voices of the men who had been torturing him. He could feel the debilitating fear even as he mouthed off, lips curved in the smile he throws the press that lies and says  _ I am untouchable and so much better than you.  _

 

He rolled out of bed, hitting the floor hard in a crouch. It was dark, too dark, and hadn’t he gotten out of the cave? He had gotten out. Used the suit to get away. Then there had been sand under his feet, caked onto his wind blown and sunburned skin. Rhodey had found him, he went home, everything was fine. Tony concentrated on getting his breathing under control and letting the tension ease out of his muscles, reminded himself he was at Steve’s apartment, then reached up to turn on the lamp bedside the bed. It was a miracle he hadn’t woken Steve up with all the comotion. But when he looked across the mattress from where he was kneeling on the floor, he knew why. 

 

The omega looked wrecked and was dead to the world. Curled up on his side, limbs limp, one hand outstretched to where Tony had been laying. Covered in bruises that Tony could see because he’d pulled the covers off with him to the floor. They were on his hips and thighs in the shapes of Tony’s fingers, sucked into his shoulders. Marks he had been proud of while he was making them because they were on his omega and they were beautiful, but in the (pre) light of day, they were proof of Tony taking things too far. He had twisted Steve like a pretzel, placing him just the way he wanted to give Steve what he asked for, not taking into consideration that Steve just couldn’t  _ move _ like that sometimes. He wasn’t completely inflexible, but some things were just impossible. 

 

Tony had never been like that before. He liked to have  a certain amount of control in bed, had always been toppy, but this had been something else; greedy and possessive. Steve hadn’t complained once (even after the choking-on-his-dick incident that Tony both hated and loved thanks to that blow job), but despite Tony’s best intentions at the start, he had lost control. Steve was strong and fierce, but so damn small compared to him. And stubborn, so stubborn. The omega had been demanding in his heat and Tony hadn’t been careful at all, except the last time when he woke Steve up and worshipped him. Shown him how precious Tony thought his omega was.

 

But Steve wasn’t his omega. This had been sex, plain and simple. It didn’t matter what Tony wanted (or thought he wanted). They were on good terms, maybe even leaning towards friendly (they had talked during Steve’s heat more than Tony had honestly expected), and Steve had kissed him back after the auction, but neither one of them had talked about what would happen after. Tony sure hadn’t told Steve he was crazy (being the opperative word), stupid, head over heels for him--or he could be, if he let himself. Amazing sex and a few conversations didn’t mean this was serious. Steve didn’t have all the facts anyway; Tony should have done them both a favor and walked out before anything started. Or, better yet, not shown up in the first place. If Steve knew about how messed up Tony was, he wouldn’t have asked Tony to help him through his heat. 

 

Pepper had known Tony for over a decade. They had been friends, lovers, talked about getting married and bonding at some point and even she couldn’t deal with the Tony who walked out of that cave. Kept talking about therapy that Tony didn’t want, wasn’t ready to even contemplate. Couldn’t understand why Tony didn’t just get the shrapnel taken out now that he was home so he didn’t need the ARC reactor anymore. They fought before Tony figure out how to stop the palladium poisoning. 

 

“It’s killing you, Tony,” Pepper had told him once with tears shining in her eyes that she wouldn’t let fall. Tony made some crack, he couldn’t remember what it was now, because he didn’t know how to make her understand. Didn’t really understand it himself. He stopped trying to explain; Pepper stopped asking. Eventually they stopped talking about anything besides work and they already weren’t sleeping in the same bed, were living in the same space only in appearance. They only got their friendship back after breaking up, had almost lost that, too. If Pep couldn’t accept how Tony was now, how could he expect someone who barely knew him to? 

 

A memory sparked of Steve seeing the reactor for the first time. Tony had been self conscious about it, but Steve hadn’t looked horrified, had even pressed kisses to Tony’s chest around the casing later, stared at the blue glow like it was beautiful. And when he asked why Tony didn’t get the shrapnel removed, Tony tensing up in remembrance of all those fights with Pepper, and Tony had told him maybe one day, Steve had… dropped it. Just let it go. Like that was good enough of an answer. 

 

Maybe, Tony had thought. Maybe it could work, maybe Steve would be  _ that _ understanding. He was so good, too good for Tony. If anyone could overlook his mental instability it would be Steve. But coming down from a nightmare, on edge, jumpy and paranoid, leaving Steve alone had seemed like the only option he had. Told himself he was saving them both from the awkward Morning After, that Steve wouldn’t want to deal with a Tony who was shaking so hard that getting dressed had been almost impossible so he left with his pants unbuttoned, belt clutched in his hand and his socks shoved in the pocket of the suit coat draped over his arm. It was the quintessential walk of shame, but so much worse than it had ever been in the past. Probably because normally, Tony didn’t care about being seen like that or who he was leaving. 

 

After a shower and coffee, Tony went to his workshop and he felt almost on an even keel, but was now kicking himself for leaving Steve. What the hell had he been thinking? Oh, right, he hadn’t been. It had all been about himself, getting out of there before having to explain to Steve how fucked up he was. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that he did it for Steve’s benefit, it had been a selfish move. Instead of sucking it up and dealing with the situation he had gotten himself into, getting his shit together, Tony had left a post-heat omega alone. He was the worst excuse for an alpha.  _ So disappointing, Tony. Didn’t I raise you better?  _ Well, he hadn’t heard that voice in a while.  _ Good talk, ghost dad. Let’s do this again never. _

 

Even if Steve wasn’t  _ his _ , he took responsibility for Steve’s well-being when he agreed to stay with him, and Tony hadn’t been able to follow through. Heats left omegas drained. They were more vulnerable. Tony wouldn’t blame Steve for not showing up today, but an omega who didn’t even take the three days of heat leave they were entitled to would show up even if their boss had fucked them and then ran. 

 

Dropping his head into his hands, Tony groans. “J, let me know when Steve gets here, would ya?” 

 

“Of course, sir.” 

 

Tony was going to talk to him, calmly, and apologize. Maybe he could salvage this and Steve wouldn’t tell him to fuck off and quit. Of course, that plan went to hell the second JARVIS informed him that Stave was approaching the building. Tony stopped his pacing, skidded into the elevator when the door opened for him. The ride down to the lobby took too long and when he arrived it was to a crowd of annoyed people because Tony had told JARVIS to hold the elevators to make sure Steve could slip past him. He pushed through the crowd, getting odd looks, because fashion plate Tony Stark was barefoot and dressed in jeans and a wife beater, hair curling and frizzy from air drying with scruff in places he normally didn’t let it grow. 

 

“Hi. Hey. ‘Scuse me. What’s up? Coming through.” He was legitimately losing his mind. It was official. He felt manic. The marble beneath his feet was wet and cold, and he almost slipped before he caught sight of familiar blond hair and wide blue eyes. Tony grabbed his hand and pulled him onto an elevator. 

 

“What are you doing?” Steve hissed, but not struggling because he cares about causing a scene. Because he works here. And Tony is his boss. And Steve is an omega and Tony is an alpha and this probably looks bad.  _ Stop. Let go of him. Calm down. Don’t embarrass Steve.  _ None of the things he tells himself work and he stepped into an empty elevator that magically opens up, dragging a glaring Steve behind him. Someone tried to walk in behind them and Tony growled, telling the woman, the alpha,“Walk away.”

 

Actually growled, like a dog protecting a bone.  _ Or an alpha protecting their omega _ . Except no one acts like that anymore. Alphas don’t clubs omegas over the head and drag them off to their cave, because omegas are humans who have free will and rights, and they were civilized. Doesn’t stop Tony’s instincts from screaming at him, no longer drowned out by the adrenaline from his nightmare, flashback, whatever. The woman backs away though, tripping over her own feet, and the doors slide shut. 

 

“Are you out of your mind, Mr. Stark?”

 

Oh. Ouch. Tony flinches hearing Steve call him that again. He shouldn’t have left; that had been a monumental mistake. “Just… wait. We can talk upstairs.”

 

Steve crosses his arms and the glare intensifies. “If you wanted to talk, you shouldn’t have snuck out in the middle of the night.”

 

“The sun was coming up. It wasn’t exactly the middle of the night.” And that was so not the point he wanted to make. Tony holds his hands up to ward off whatever Steve is about to say. “You can yell at me all you want. Just, please, wait until we get to the penthouse.” 

 

Steve doesn’t look happy about it, but his mouth snaps shut and he transfers his glare to the elevator doors. There are shadows under his eyes and drops from melted snow on his wind chapped cheeks. The line of his back and shoulders aren’t as straight as they usually are. Tony runs a hand over his mouth, trying to hold the apology in. He doesn’t want to grovel in an elevator. And he will grovel if he has to, for the first time in his life, because the punch to the gut of seeing Steve again made him realize that he needed to try, not just to appease Steve for his bad behavior, but see if there’s a chance in hell of there being… more. He didn’t deserve Steve, but he wanted him and Tony had always been a selfish bastard. He tried to keep his distance, stay professional, and ended up almost getting himself shot, kissing Steve, and them barging in on him while he was in heat. Hadn’t been able to walk away from Steve that first day, do the responsible thing. How the hell had Tony thought he would be able to go back to his life before? 

 

Nightmare aside, Tony hadn’t felt more real, more present, than he did when he was with Steve in a very long time. Trying to ignore the imprinting was making everything worse. Tony might ignore problems more than was strictly healthy, but Steve wasn’t a  _ problem _ , was he? Sappy as it sounded, maybe that’s what his brain was trying to tell him. PTSD or not, he was still a genius. Maybe he just needed to start listening to his gut. It got him out of Afghanistan. And his gut was telling him he needed Steve, had been since the first day. He could be good for Steve if he tried and Steve was good for him. Being slightly more clear headed, something told him that if he’d given Steve the chance, the younger man would have talked sense into him this morning.  _ For a genius, you are the biggest idiot on the planet sometimes.  _

 

Steve walked over to the sunken living room, dropped his bag on the couch. Ripped his gloves and scarf off and tossing them aside, too. “What did you want to talk about, Mr. Stark?” 

 

Tony was throwing away a good thing being handed to him on a silver platter. 

 

Fuck it. Seriously, just--Fuck. It. 

 

Tony walks over to Steve, cups his face, and kisses him. It’s so good. How is he supposed to live without this? How did he think he could? He’s not that strong. Who cares why he took notice of Steve or how they met or the million other reasons that other people might say they shouldn’t be together.  TMZ will have a field day. If Steve will have him after this, he’s not going to walk away again. 

 

Steve wrenches away and puts a few steps distance between them. “What is wrong with you?”

 

“That’s a long list. How much time you got?” Tony plants his feet and stays where he is. Note to self: kissing Steve when he was mad at Tony for walking out on him was not good. 

 

“Is everything a joke to you?” 

 

“No.” Tony chuckles, but it lacks mirth. “This is the least amusing situation I’ve ever found myself in and I spent three months in a cave being tortured.”

 

“Tony,” Steve says in frustration, pulling at his hair, spinning away. Tony had to bite his lip to hide the smile trying to break free because Steve called him  _ Tony _ . Doesn’t want Steve to see it when he turns back around. He doesn’t think it would be appreciated. Steve is mad at him, rightly so, but not that mad if he slipped back to calling him Tony again. “I don’t understand you. You abandoned me after spending my heat with me and now you’re kissing me like nothing happened. What do you want?” 

 

“You. I want you.” It slips out before he can second guess it. 

 

“Have a funny way of showing it.” 

 

“And I didn’t abandon you.”  _ Wasn’t that the exact same thing you were thinking earlier? That you abandoned your omega after his heat?  _ Not my omega… yet. Maybe never if he kept making Steve mad. “Or I didn’t mean to. It was an asshole move. I’ll admit that. I just— I thought it would be easier for you. Less awkward.” 

 

“I slept with my boss; it was always going to be awkward.” He’s got you there, Tony thinks. “Did you… regret what happened? Is that it?”  

 

Tony couldn’t regret the last two days even if he wanted to. He just wishes he could have been better. Tony had wallowed in Steve’s warmth and soaked up everything the omega gave him and what had he given Steve in return? Hurt and doubts and a bone deep tiredness that was physically painful to watch Steve from fight. “No, not even a little. I—”  _ Just tell him.  _ “There are some things I should have told you before, though.” 

 

“Are you married?” 

 

“What?” What is Steve even talking about? “No.” 

 

“Are you bonded?” 

 

“No!” 

 

“Well, I mean you didn’t even try to… you barely… and then you just left.” Steve stumbles over his words, a hand coming up to cover the side of his neck where one of his scent glands are. 

 

Oh. Oh, no. Tony had kept his teeth as far away from Steve’s glands as he could because he didn’t trust himself to not sink his teeth down in a moment of weakness. He wanted when it came to Steve. So much. Everything. Forced bonding was the ultimate betrayal. The only thing more vile was rape and the two usually went hand in hand. 

 

But it wasn’t uncommon for unbonded partners to lick or suck at each other’s glands when an omega was in heat. The glands were more sensitive during then, another erogenous zone. Steve had mouthed at Tony’s almost absentmindedly. And Steve—beautiful, sweet, stubborn Steve—thought Tony hadn’t returned the favor because, what, Tony didn’t like him enough? 

 

“I’m not married and I’m not bonded,” Tony says, like it’s the most ridiculous thing in the world. Because it is. He’s a lot of things, but a cheater was never one of them. “Pepper and I broke up six months ago. We were together for four years and I haven’t touched anyone since we split besides you.

 

Steve doesn’t look convinced, but some of the tension leaves his eyes. Tony expels a harsh breath. “I have nightmares. Flashbacks, whatever you want to call them. I had one this morning. I wasn’t—I didn’t plan on leaving, before that. I just didn’t think you needed to deal with it.” 

 

“You should have let me decide what I did and didn’t need to deal with.” Tony’s gaze had wandered toward the wall of windows, but at Steve’s words it snaps back. He takes an involuntary step forward but stops. His mouth opens, closes, because he doesn’t know what to say.

 

“You’re right,” he says after a few more beats of silence where they do nothing more than stare at each other, Tony in helplessness and Steve in accusation. “I should have. It—the PTSD.” Tony has to pause because he’s never said it out loud before. “It ruined my relationship with Pepper. I wasn’t the same when I came back. Nothing was the same.” 

 

“It shouldn’t have been, Tony.” Steve sits down on the couch, looking up at him in something akin to exasperation. “I don’t know all the details, but going through what you went through changes a person. My best friend, Bucky… he’s in the army,” Steve says, eyes trained on the carpet. “Everytime he comes back on leave he’s different. Little things mostly. He’s still Bucky, but pretending that the things he’s seen and had to do don’t exist, that he’s the same ol’ Buck I played stick ball with would be stupid. And not fair to him.” 

 

“When did you become so wise?” He shakes his head. He hadn’t thought about it like that before. Steve just shrugs. He looks so small and young sitting on the couch, but he’s apparently smarter than Tony, at least in this. Doesn’t understand the finer points of quantum mechanics or know the atomic mass of iridium off the top of his head, but he sees the world in a different way. Ways that Tony is blind to. Stebe had been through a lot in his life and it gave Tony a different perspective that he apparently needed. Because Tony had expected everything to be the same when he came back, to just go right back to life as usual. And maybe Pepper had, too. Keeping his movements slow, Tony steps closer to the couch and sits on the opposite end when Steve makes no objection. “There is something else I need to mention.” 

 

A furrow appears between Steve’s brows and Tony sinks down against the back of the couch, lifting a hand to rub his forehead. “It’s not just nightmares.” His eyes cut to Steve then away. He owes him the whole story. “I have flashbacks. Paranoia. I’m jumpy as hell sometimes. But the newest thing is imprinting.” 

 

“Imprinting? What’s that?” 

 

“Something my friend Rhodey mentioned. He’s air force, so I’m sure him and your bestie would get along just great if they ever met.” Steve’s expression is asking him to, please, get back on topic. “Little known symptom of PTSD in alphas is imprinting. They get a little,”  _ obsessed  _ “attached to an omega. Go all protective and growly. Lucky you.” 

 

“Me?” Steve’s eyes widen. “Why me?” 

 

_ Because you’re perfect for me and I had my head so far up my ass that I almost didn’t see it.  _ “I’m not sure. But I've wanted nothing more than to keep you safe since the moment you walked into my penthouse.” 

 

“You were an ass the first time we met,” he points out. 

 

“That’s true, yes. You caught me off guard. An unknown variable.” Tony turns his head and his eyes go half lidded, smirking. “You were the last thing I expected.” 

 

“Okay.” Steve drags the word out, sinking into the cushions on the opposite end of the couch. “But you ignored me for, like, two weeks.” 

 

Tony sighs. “I don't like not having control of a situation and I didn’t know what to do with you. But not hiring you didn’t seem like an option at the time. To be honest, I was planning on paying you to just sit around and do nothing,” he admits, shrugging. 

 

“You’re unbelievable.” 

 

“Usually when I hear that, it’s meant as a compliment. Something tells me that is not how you meant it, though.” 

 

“No, Tony. I didn’t mean it as a compliment. Were you ever planning on telling me? Or were you just going to fuck me and hope I went away?” 

 

“Hey.” He sits up. “You propositioned me, Steve. I was going to leave. I had no plans to take it further than that kiss and I didn’t even mean to go that far.” 

 

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Steve gets to his feet, keeps speaking before Tony has a chance to reply. “And you were the one who showed up at my apartment all frantic because I wasn’t answering your calls like some worried boyfriend!” 

 

“Maybe I want to be.” Tony is on his feet, too, in Steve’s face. And what the hell had he just said? 

 

“What?” Steve isn’t intimidated by the taller man looming over him. He just looks adorably confused. 

 

Tony takes a deep breath and straightens. “Maybe I want to be your boyfriend. I mean that’s still a thing, right? Millennials still do the boyfriend thing?” 

 

That earns him an eye roll. “You’re not that much older than me.” 

 

“Sixteen years isn’t nothing, kitten.” The endearment rolls off his tongue too easily, but Steve doesn’t call him on it. “So, I’ll take that as a yes. That having a boyfriend is still a thing.” 

 

“Yes, it’s still a thing, you jerk.” Steve looks belligerent and Tony wants to kiss him, but refrains. 

 

“What do say then? Will you be my boyfriend, Steve Rogers?”

 

“I don’t know, Tony. You kept a lot of secrets for someone who says he wants a relationship with me.” 

 

“In my defense—”

 

“And,” Steve cuts him off, stressing the word. “You haven’t even apologized for anything. I’m still mad at you.” 

 

“I am sorry. I acted like a jackass.” Tony wraps his arms around Steve loosely. “Do you forgive me?” 

 

“No. Not yet. But,” Steve says, hand reaching out to hold Tony’s wrist when he drops his arms. “I’m willing to give this a chance. If you’re serious. But you can’t do that again. If you need to leave, you wrote a damn note or text me like a normal person.” 

 

“I’ve never been a normal person, Steve.” His life, his parents, his upbringing made that an impossibility. He was pushed and prodded to be more than normal.   

 

“That’s okay. Neither have I,” Steve says, looking up at him. “I’m not expecting you to magically be okay, you went through hell, but you need to talk to me if there’s a problem. I’m not… I’m not great at relationships, but I like you, Tony.” 

 

“You do, huh?” He wraps his arms around Steve’s waist and pulls him closer. 

 

“Mhmm,” Steve says. Tony leans in to Steve Steve but moves his head to avoid it. “I think we should take things slow, though. I want to do this right.” 

 

Tony sighs, but presses a kiss to Steve’s hair instead. “I get it. If that’s what you want it’s fine with me. We can date like regular people.” They had jumped from point A to point F and it was understandable that Steve wanted time for them to get to know each other. As great as the sex had been, Tony genuinely liked spending time with Steve, anyway. It would be nice and hopefully worth the blue balls. 

 

“Dating sounds nice,” Steve says, smiling sweetly up at Tony. “No more secrets, though, if it involves me or something that could affect us. Deal?” 

 

“Deal.” He could do that. It was only fair. His face twists into a grimace when a thought occurs to him, though. “There is something else you should know about then. But it will make more sense if I show you.”

 

* * *

Tony takes him down to the workshop. It’s the first time Steve has been inside and he looks like a kid going to the zoo for the first time. Tony pretends not to watch while Steve wanders around looking at everything. When he DUM-E sneaks up behind him, he squeals and Tony has to choke back a laugh. DUM-E’s pincer is whirling around in excitement and U moves out of the corner, panning the camera imbedded in his mechanical arm up and down Steve’s body.  _ You and me both, buddy.  _

 

“You have actual robots?” Steve is petting DUM-E like its a dog, which is seriously adorable.

 

“These aren’t the droids you’re looking for,” Tony said, in his best Obiwan impersonation, keeping his eyes on the screen in front of him. 

 

Steve laughs. “I got that reference. Did you build them?”

 

“Mhmm,” he said, getting momentarily distracted by plans to improve their stealth tech.  

Tony might have pulled SI out of weapons, but there were still ways to help defend people that didn’t involve blowing them up: body armor, stealth for military aircraft (maybe he had a soft spot for the airforce), non weaponized drones. They had branches out into a lot of medical technology, too, much of which was utilized in war zones. Tony pulled his attention back to Steve. “I did. The smaller one, DUM-E, I built in Howard--my dad’s--workshop. Didn’t really think it would work, doesn’t all the time, but kind of grew on me. I built U later.” 

 

“They’re really cool.” Tony felt his chest puff up. “You… said you wanted to show me something?”

 

“Oh, right. Right. If you think the robots are cool, wait ‘til you see this.” Cue the nerves. One wall along the back of the workshop is made up of tinted glass, concealing niches, one of which held his suit. Tony taps the glass. “Open it up, J.” 

 

The tinted glass parts down the middle and retracts into the wall. The silver colored suit stares out into the room with empty eyes. It represents a year of his life and hopefully would give him the means to bring down Bakaar and clean up the mess Obie left behind. No one else was going to die from weapons with his name on them if he had anything to say about it. 

 

Steve was quiet behind him and Tony turned around. Steve was throwing the armor some serious side eye, brow furrowed. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but this wasn’t it. It was way too anticlimactic. Blue eyes flick from the suit to Tony and back. “Did you build the Terminator?” 

 

He sounds so accusatory. “No, I did not build the—it’s not even close. It’s armor, an exosuit. It’s not a sometimes homicidal, time traveling robot.” 

 

“Really? Cause it kinda looks like the Terminator.” 

 

“It does not--” Head cocked and arms crossed, he considers it. “Hmm, maybe I could change the colors. I need to make some changes anyway. I was thinking of using a different composition, some kind of alloy maybe, after the— Nevermind.” Bring up almost dying during the flight test because the suit iced over was probably not a good idea now. Could from some people’s perspective been construed as keeping secrets, but he didn’t want to rock the boat. “It’s armor. I wear it.” 

 

“Like a super suit,” Steve says, edging closer. He pokes the armor with a fingertip, frowning deeper, like he thought something was supposed to happen. Come alive and kill someone, maybe. “Like in Halo?”

 

“No,” Tony tells him, frowning. “That would imply that—this isn’t a comic book, Steve. I’m not some hero.” 

 

“Uh-huh.” Steve was giving him a look that said he thought Tony was full of shit. “ Halo’s a video game, by the way, not a comic book. What is it then?”

 

“There’s something I need to fix and this is my way to do it.” He’s not trying to be a hero. Obie had been selling weapons to terrorists under Tony’s nose and he had to fix it. It was also retribution, for himself and Yinsen. He would take down Bakaar and the Ten Rings because no one else seemed willing. Wanting revenge did not make him a hero. 

 

“Alright, well,” Tony says, clapping his hands. Change of subject was in order. He wasn’t keeping secrets from Steve. He would tell him what the plan was when he… had a plan. Leaving the country to take down a terrorist organization would warrant a heads up to his boyfriend. Cause they were dating. Ha. “I have some stuff to go over, from a few of the teams in R&D. How about you work down here today? You can transfer the calls to your cell and curl up on the couch. I’ll have some food sent up; you can relax a little.” 

 

Steve looks ready to argue, but one glance at the plush couch Tony had in the workshop and he folds. “I’m gonna go get my stuff. I’ll be back. I’m too tired to argue with you about getting paid to sit on a couch.” 

 

“You’re entitled to three days of heat leave a month, you know,” Tony tells him. 

 

“I know. I just didn’t want to take three days off with the holiday next week. I’m just… a little more worn out than usual,” he admits. 

 

“Are you?” 

 

“Don’t be smug. It’s not cute,” Steve says on his way to the elevator. 

 

“You totally think I’m cute,” Tony says, and watches Steve shake his head until the doors close. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that their relationship on the right-ish path, I can start to move some of the other story arcs forward. Take that slow burn tag seriously, because there will be more sex, but it's gonna be a minute. Steve is scared of getting hurt again. 
> 
> I gave myself a plot bunny for another fic (think Chilling Adventures of Sabrina meets omegaverse). I redid my twitter so I'll probably talk about fic related stuff there? Or something. I'll post the synopsis of this new one just for shits and giggles. If you want to follow me I'm dyslexicsquirrel over there, too. 
> 
> Thank you for comments and kudos. Like for real. I had **all the anxiety** about even posting this fic. All the love is helping me feel like I can (and actually should) write again. My ability to do anything but academic papers had suffered over the years, this is not the best I'm capable of, but It's giving my brain and my fingers a workout. I'm enjoying it immensely even when the story is being a pain in my ass and I end up deleting like 4000 words and having to start over. XD


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are typos, I apologize. I’m getting a minimally invasive procedure done on my leg on Wednesday and I just wanted to get this posted because I have no idea how I’m going to feel after. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! ❤️
> 
> Find me on tumblr @dyslexicsquirrel

Happiness was something Steve had forgotten the feeling of. Only a few days had passed since he and Tony had started dating, but he was happier than he had been in years. It was like a balm to his soul and fixed something he hadn’t realized was quite so broken.  It it didn’t take away the fear that it would all end. Life had taught him too many times that things could be ephemeral. Even still, Steve was trying to enjoy the good things, to live in The Now.

 

Currently that meant lying stretched out on the couch in Tony’s living room with his head on Tony’s chest, while the other man—his boyfriend—ran his fingers through Steve’s hair and they watched a movie. They ended the last few days this way, the only thing changing the movie Tony thought Steve needed to watch because he found the fact Steve hadn’t ever seen it was a crime against humanity. “What do you mean you’ve never seen The Breakfast Club?” Tony had asked him earlier, aghast. So, they were watching The Breakfast Club.

 

Steve liked the movie, the parts he could remember at least. He was just so tired the last couple of days and his mind would wander. Tony’s petting wasn’t helping, nor was the comforting smell of him in Steve’s nose or the rumble of his voice when he made comments. Steve couldn’t focus on the exact words more than half the time.  

 

“Am I forgiven yet?” Tony’s breath when he spoke the words in Steve’s ear, paired with the scrap of his facial hair, tickled and Steve pushed his face away, telling him in mock sternness, “No. Watch the movie”

 

Tony did just that, shifting to settle Steve higher up on his chest so Tony could slide down and  prop his feet on the coffee table. Steve sighed, nuzzling the soft cotton beneath his cheek. He was happy that Tony didn’t push the issue because he wasn’t being completely honest. Steve had forgiven Tony; he just wasn’t sure he should. Not so fast. More or less handing Tony his heart on a silver platter. Steve had never wanted anything more than to be with Tony, not even art school, but admitting it and telling Tony he was forgiven after only a few days of walking out on Steve in the middle of the night, frankly, scared him.

 

He wasn’t trying to string Tony along or leave him hanging or make him suffer, but he also needed to protect himself. He didn’t have much objectivity where Tony was involved as asking a virtual stranger to have sex with him for two days had shown. And while Steve might not blame or judge Tony for suffering from PTSD, the imprinting business or whatever it was made part of him wonder if Tony was really with him because he wanted to be or… if it was all in his head and one day he’d wonder what he had done and Steve would once again wake up alone. Except by then it would hurt so much worse.

 

Some time later, Steve blinked his eyes open when Tony pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty.”

 

He blinked up into Tony’s face, confused. He’d just been laying on Tony’s chest—how had Tony stood up without him noticing? And when had he fallen asleep? Steve sat up, pushing the hair falling across his forehead back, and swallowed a yawn. “How long have I been asleep?”

 

“About an hour. Maybe a little less. I didn’t want to wake you up.” Tony straightened. “You hungry? I made dinner.”

 

“You cooked,” Steve asked in surprise.

 

“I have many talents,” Tony said, arms spread wide, a small smirk gracing his lips, as he walked backwards toward the kitchen. He turned, facing forward the rest of the way to the stove once he reached the island. Steve was very much reconsidering his taking-things-slow concession. It wasn’t fair the way Tony moved when he walked. Made Steve think of how he moved when he did other things. He shook the thought away and stood, sitting in the chair at the island that Tony indicated.

 

His eyebrows rose when Tony slid a plate of French toast in front of him. Glancing up, he saw Tony shrug. “I’m better at breakfast.”

 

Steve stared at it. There was powdered sugar sprinkled on the top and fruit on the side like you would get at a restaurant. Tony reached for the plate. “If you don’t want it, I can make something else.”

 

“No,” Steve says, touching Tony’s wrist. This was good, great even. More than he expected. Tony could be so sweet sometimes, it caught him off guard. Like not having a problem with Steve passing out on the couch during their kind-of date. He smiled, pulling the plate closer so Tony couldn’t take it away. “This is perfect. I love French toast. Only thing better would have been pancakes,” he teased, spearing a strawberry with his fork and popping it into his mouth.

 

“Noted.” Tony’s smile had gone soft, fond. He leaned on the counter across from Steve on his elbows, hands folded.  The way he looked at Steve sometimes…

 

Not second guessing the impulse, Steve slid his plate to the side, leaned across the counter, and kissed Tony. He kept it brief, pulling back enough to tell him, “I accept your apology.” He pressed another quick peck to Tony’s smiling mouth then sat down, digging in to his breakfast-for-dinner.

 

“Thanks, kitten. I’ll make sure you don’t regret that.”

 

“You’re not eating,” he asked once he swallowed.

 

“Maybe later.”

 

It was strange having someone just watch him eat, but Tony seemed to find some weird enjoyment in it and he was starving. When he was done, Tony waited while he was bundled up to his satisfaction—Steve rolled his eyes when he made him put his hat on, too—and then drove him home.

 

“You have plans tomorrow?” They were parked on the street outside of the house Steve’s apartment was in, Tony turned in his seat to face him with his arm behind the passenger head rest.

 

“No,” Steve said, but it came out sounding like a question. Tomorrow was Saturday, he didn’t have work, and as long as Darcy didn’t ambush him for brunch again his day was free.

 

“Do you want some?” Tony squints, holding up the index finger and thumb of his left hand so there was barely any space between them. “I may have maybe planned a date. A real one. If you’re interested.”

 

“I—yes, yeah. That sounds good.” A real date with Tony? It still sounded so far outside the realm of possibilities that a man like Tony—handsome, rich, smart—would be interested in some guy from Brooklyn, who had never even gone to college. “What are we doing?”

 

Tony closed the distance between them. “It’s a surprise,” he murmured before cupping the back of Steve’s head and kissing him until he couldn’t see straight.

 

* * *

Steve slept in late on Saturday and there was a message from Tony waiting for him when he picked up his phone around noon.

 

 **Tony** : Be ready by 6. Dinner first, then your surprise.

 **Steve** : sounds good

 **Steve** : since I don’t know where we’re going what should I wear?

 **Tony** : No dress code, kitten. Wear comfortable shoes, though.

 

Well, that wasn’t really any help. What if Tony was taking him to some 5 star restaurant that required a coat and tie? Did places like that exist? He had seen it in movies a few times, but places like that were always out of his price range. The one and only time Steve had gone anywhere in public with Tony was the auction and he’d had his outfit all picked out for him. Tony’s words about how Steve looked reflected on him echoed through his head. Sure, he had been talking about Steve as his assistant—hadn’t Tony admitted to wanting Steve even then?—but it stands to reason it would be even more true for his boyfriend. The tux would probably be overkill, and besides it was still in the closet of the guest room in Tony’s penthouse. And comfortable shoes? Did that mean casual? Should he wear jeans?

 

Steve hadn’t been this nervous before a date since high school. And Steve hated surprises. He liked knowing facts and having concrete plans. But Tony was like a whirlwind—he went where he wanted and you were swept up in his path or got out of the way. Steve did not want to be left behind, but that didn’t alleviate his worry or uncertainty. Steve scrolled through his contacts and typed out a message to the only person available he could ask for fashion advice.

 

 **Steve** : have a date tonight need help. what should I wear???

 

Letting the phone drop to the mattress, Steve got up to use the bathroom and brush his teeth. He was grabbing a yogurt from the fridge when he heard his phone ping. He stuck the spoon in his mouth and picked up his phone.

 

 **Darcy** : Omg! with who? where?

 **Steve** : with Tony and I don’t know where

 **Steve** : it’s a surprise

 **Steve** : but he said to wear comfortable shoes?

 **Darcy** : stfu!!!!

 **Darcy** : I’m coming over to look at your closet

 **Darcy** : Be there in like 30mins

 

Steve shrugged, putting his phone down, and settled back against the headboard to eat his breakfast. He hadn’t told Darcy about sleeping with Tony or that they were official now or spending the last few nights curled up with Tony on his couch after work. Not that he wanted to hide it, but it was all so new and fragile that he wanted to keep it to himself a bit longer. His need for advice had pushed that worry aside. Besides, he wanted to tell her, he really did. Having a friend like Darcy was a new experience. Steve never would have asked Bucky to help him pick out clothes for a date; it wasn’t something Bucky would be interested in. Wouldn’t have asked Buck for dating advice, period. Bucky hated all the guys Steve dated (that he’d met), including his first boyfriend in high school and he and Brock had been friends. Bucky took his faux-older-brother role seriously.

 

When Darcy got there, she made a beeline for his closet as soon as he let her inside and her commentary made it known she was not impressed by the contents. “Who actually owns this much plaid? Is it a holdover from a grunge period? And why do you have four pairs of khakis? Did you use to work at Target?”

 

His mouth was open to defend his wardrobe choices when Darcy said, “A-ha!” She pulled something off the back of the top shelf and spun around brandishing a pair of black skinny jeans with a rip in one knee that Steve hadn’t seen in years. He hadn’t even realized he still had them.

 

“I don’t even those still fit. I bought them when I was 16.” Steve pulled a face when she tossed them on his bed and went back to rummaging. He folded them while she wasn’t looking.

 

“So what if they’re a little tight?” Her voice came out muffled since she was literally inside his closet, leaving no stone unturned. When she re-emerged, she was holding two T-shirts in her hands. “They’ll make your butt look amazing and tight pants are always good for making your date think about peeling them off with their teeth all night.” She holds up both shirts. “Which one?”

 

“Jesus, Darcy,” he says, trying like hell not to blush, grabbing the gray shirt out of her left hand without even looking at it. “Do you have to say things like that?”

 

“What?” Darcy shrugs. “You can wear one of your cardigans, too, grandpa. The rest of the outfit is edgy enough to not make you look like a septuagenarian.”

 

She tossed a red cardigan he picked up at a second hand store on the pile and dropped down onto the edge of his bed. “Don’t even try to tell me you aren’t thinking about having sex with Tony Stark. _I’ve_ thought about it. I saw the way you looked when you told me about that kiss and now you’re going on a date?”

 

When Steve’s only response was to sputter and the hated blush started climbing up his cheeks, her eyes widened. “You slut! You totally boned the boss man and you didn’t tell me?”

 

“I wasn’t sure how to bring it up.” He said the words softly, sitting down next to her.

 

“Well, I need details, now,” she tells him, making a gimme motion with her hand. Her smile is wide and a little devious. “You have a few hours before he gets here, right? Tell me everything. Leave nothing out. I need to live vicariously. Seriously, why are all my friends hooking up with insanely hot men?”

 

Steve laughed when she threw herself back on the bed dramatically and held the back of her hand to her forehead. Well, he guessed he did own her for helping him pick out clothes and not look like a grungy flannel wearing, Target employee.

 

* * *

 

Darcy left around five to give Steve enough time to shower and get dressed. They sat on his bed while Steve told her all about what was going on with Tony (well, he left out the part about Tony leaving and the subsequent argument cause he didn’t think it was anyone’s business but theirs) and Darcy lamented her horrible dating life. She told him about how her friend Jane hooked up with a, in her words, “ blond god with a magic hammer” (he didn’t think he would ever get use to how openly she talked about sex—not that he was a prude or anything), but how they weren’t really together right now, and Jane had moved to London to work on some kind of research. They ate Doritos and watched Justified and drooled over Timothy Olyphant (he was dating not blind—though the actor didn’t hold a candle to Tony in his opinion). It did the trick of calming his nerves until he was looking in his bathroom mirror after he got dressed.

 

His hair was proofing up instead of laying flat like he wanted and despite how much he had been sleeping for the last few days, there were dark circles under his eyes. The jeans actually fit, but the shirt was a few sizes too big and Steve wasn’t even sure where it came from. Maybe one of Bucky’s that somehow got mixed in with his stuff. The v-neck hung low and wide enough to show off his collar bones and hit him at his hips. The cardigan was oversized, too—Steve had bought it because it was comfortable and he liked the color, but he had to roll the sleeves up so they didn’t cover his hands and did it really work for a _date_?

 

 _Just trust Darcy. If you start second guessing right now, you’ll be naked with Tony gets here._ And that was… No, he shouldn’t think about that. The jeans were too tight for him to be popping wood. Rolling his eyes at himself, Steve put his black converse on, which he’d also had since high school, and, oh my God, he looked like a fucking hipster. This was not going to work.

 

Steve jumped down from the closed toilet lid—which was the only way he could look at himself fully in the tiny bathroom mirror—and was looking for something to change into when someone knocked at his door.

 

No, not ‘someone’—Tony. He heaved a sigh. Too late now. Steve would rather look like a hipster (Bucky would tease him about this mercilessly if he ever found out) than leave Tony waiting out in the cold.

 

The sight of Tony standing in the low light of the single fixture outside his door took his breath away. The black wool coat fell to his knees and leather gloves encased his hands. He had on black dress pants and sneakers Steve would bet cost more than he made in a month. The fact that Tony wasn’t wearing a tie—a fact he could tell from the peek of a crew neck between the open v-neck of his coat—made Steve feel less like he was underdressed. Then again, Tony made everything look like it came off a runway.

 

“Hey, kitten.” The husky timbre to Tony’s voice and the way his eyes dragged up and down his body slowly took away the rest of the worry he had about his attire. He sent up a silent thanks to Darcy and an apology for doubting.

 

“I hope this is okay?” He still couldn’t help asking the question, tugging the T-shirt down. Leather chilled from the November air wrapped around his fingers. His eyes snapped up.

 

“It’s perfect,” Tony assured him. “Get your coat, kitten. We have a reservation to make.”

 

Tony wrapped his arm around Steve’s shoulders, using his broader body as a bulwark against the wind, escorting him to where the car was parked on the street, and opened the passenger door for Steve. It wasn’t the Audi this time, but something low slung and sleek, the red exterior gleaming in the lamplight. The engine started with a purr and Steve ran his hands along the leather seat earning a chuckle from Tony. Steve had never cared much about cars, but he could appreciate the craftsmanship.

 

Once they were on their way—back to Manhattan, if Steve had to guess—Tony handling the car with the same innate skill he did everything, he glanced at Steve before turning back to the road. “I hope you like French food. I probably should have asked that before,” he admitted, like it had just occurred to him.

 

“I’m not that picky. I’m sure it’s fine.” He bit his lower lip, worrying it between his teeth. “Do I get any hints for tonight?”

 

“That would defeat the purpose of a surprise.”

 

“I don’t really like surprises.” He didn’t want to complain and it was sweet that Tony had made plans—Steve appreciated it—but he didn’t want to not tell Tony that surprises just weren’t his thing.

 

“Is it really going to bother you if I don’t tell you?” Tony’s eyes flicked toward him again, there and away, a furrow between his brows.

 

Steve mulled. It would, a little, but it seemed important to Tony—he sounded excited—and he could deal. He offered a compromise instead. “At least tell me where we’re going for dinner?”

 

“I reserved the skybox at Daniel. It’s private so we can talk without people staring at us all night.”

 

Steve had never heard of the restive, but it sounded like one of those pretentious places that he walked past without even looking at because he knew he could never afford it and the plates were filled with foam and micro greens and cost three hundred dollars. He didn’t tell Tony that, though, because he didn’t want to insult him. They were just from very different worlds. What he said instead was, “I really don’t think I’m dressed right.”

 

“You look great. Besides, no one is going to kick me or my date out.” That was true. And Steve got a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest hearing Tony call him ‘my date’. It would be fine. So what if the people at this restaurant thought Tony was slumming being with Steve? It wasn’t any of their damn business. Steve gave Tony’s hand a squeeze where it rested on his thigh. He smiled like a dope when Tony lifted Steve’s hand, placing a kiss to the knuckles, before setting it back on his thigh with his gloved hand on top. Anyone who had a problem with them could go fuck themselves. He was happy. _Live in The Now, Steve._

 

Tony parked in the alley behind the restaurant where delivery vans would stop and they went in through a back entrance to the kitchen because, apparently, Tony hated parking on the street, the closest parking garage was two blocks over, and Tony didn’t do anything he didn’t want to do. Steve shook his head, but he was smiling when Tony held the door open for him and they were greeted by a dark haired alpha, impeccably dressed in a black suit, crisp white shirt, and a black and white striped tie. “Good evening, Mr. Stark,” he said, in a French accent, nodding at Tony and then Steve.

 

“Karim, good to see you. How’s the wife?” Tony asked, clapping the other alpha lightly on the shoulder.

 

“Very well, Mr. Stark. Thank you for asking. If you and your guest will follow me?” Karim gestured with a hand then led them through the kitchen. It was bustling, the stainless steel surfaces bright under the overhead lights. When they walked into the dining room, Steve stared, mouth agape, before he snapped it shut. Vaulted ceilings, columns, tables covered in white cloths. The white walls were textured with architectural detail, and accented by colorful artwork. The dark suited wait staff moved with efficiency.

 

As Steve’s eyes flowed around the room he realized he was very, very underdressed. All of the male patrons wore suits, the women in cocktail dresses. He wanted to kill Tony, but he also stepped closer to the taller man in a vain hope he would hide Steve from the watchful eyes of the people seated in the dining room. Tony’s hand, now bare of its glove, settled comfortingly  on his lower back. Steve thought he could almost feel the warmth even through the layers of his clothing.

 

The room they were led up to was indeed private, more intimate, and Steve breathes a sigh of relief. It felt almost like they were in someone’s home with the pictures on the walls and knick knacks on the bookshelf spanning the wall by the table. There was a window which looked down on the dining room. Steve slide into the plush booth on one side of the table, Tony on the other, after Karim took their coats.

 

“Your server this evening will be Macy and she will be with you shortly. Enjoy your meal and let me know if you need anything, Mr. Stark. Thank you for dining with us this evening.” With another nod, he left.

 

Tony settled into his seat. “I hope you’re hungry. There are eight courses.” Before Steve could answer, a petite omega with red hair came up to give them bread, fill their water glasses, and take their drink order. Tony ordered a scotch—the first Steve has seen him have in a while he realizes—and shakes his head in faux disapproval when Steve said he was fine with the water.

 

After Macy left, he asked, “What?”

 

“Nothing,” Tony tells him, lips curving up on one side, as he rested an elbow on the table and propped his chin on his fist. “You’re just cute.”

 

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he said, eyes dipping down, suddenly bashful. That’s when he noticed Tony’s shirt under his black jacket. He laughed, lifting a hand to cover his mouth, and met Tony’s eyes. “Is that…?”

 

“A cat shooting lasers out of its eyes? Yes. Yes, it is. Wore it just for you, kitten.”

 

Steve was still laughing when Macy brought the first course. Tony hadn’t been lying, there are eight courses, each one better than the last—things Steve never thought he would ever eat or like. Foie gras terrine with pistachios and a cherry, chrysanthemum salad; pea velouté and ricotta gnocchi topped with herb infused oil and bacon; stuffed langoustine with pickled mushrooms and a yuzu-lettuce coulis; seafood fritto misto with fennel and almonds on a bed of lettuce with a tangy vinaigrette; seared yellowtail with tahini and eggplant, garbanzo bean salad and rice vinegar emulsion; sweetbreads (Tony told him not to ask what those were if he di already know so he didn’t) with mushroom purée and lamb with sauce à L'échalote; Wagyu strip loin with blue cheese potatoes, spinach and sauce Milan.

 

They talk through the meal, the conversation flowing easily, trading stories from their youth. Tony told him about the first and second time getting kicked out of boarding school—once for hacking school records just because he could and another for accidentally starting a fire in chem lab—and how his dad had paid the school more money to take him back; Steve told him about falling asleep at a school mass, getting caught by Father Bolger and having to clean the church bathrooms for a month.

 

“Catholic school? That means uniform, right?” Tony asked, a gleam in his dark eyes.

 

“Yes,” he confirmed, somewhat reluctantly.

 

“Are there pictures of you in this uniform?” Tony was leering at Steve across the table.

 

“Oh my God, Tony,” he says, trying to keep his voice down in case Macy was lurking close by.  “It’s not like I wore a skirt. The boy’s uniforms are a lot more boring.”

 

“Oh, I think I’ll be the judge of that. Was there plaid? Please, tell me there was plaid. Oh, and a sweater vest.” He shivered theatrically, but Steve thought he was actually being serious.

 

“The thought of me in a school uniform is seriously turning you on?”

 

“Mhm,” Tony mummered, licking some sauce off his fork suggestively, never breaking eye contact. “Are there pictures, Steve?”

 

“Uh, yeah.” He had some. His mom had kept all his school photos. He had to clear his throat to get his next words out. “I should probably mention that I only went to Catholic school from first to third grade.”

 

Tony visibly deflated, looking disappointed. And a little sick, collapsing back against the booth. “Should have led with that, kitten. Jesus.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Steve said, trying not to laugh. Tony was glaring at him when Macy showed up with the last course.

 

Dessert consisted of cherry pie with chantilly cream and Steve barely stopped himself from licking his plate. Tony’s voice was full of amusement when he asked, “I take it you approve?”

 

Steve sat back with a sigh, patting his belly. He’s so full he feels like he could burst, but the food had been amazing. “Yeah. Thanks, Tony. This is, like, the best meal I’ve ever had.”

 

“Good. I’m glad.” Tony took a sip from his scotch—the one he had nursed all night—before he said, “How about you pick where we go next time?”

 

“Seriously?” Tony nodded and Steve gave him a narrow eyed expression. “Even if I wanted to go to Burger King? Or Dave & Buster’s?”

 

Tony assumed a serious meine and shrugged. “Never been to Dave & Buster’s. I like arcades as much as the next person. I warn you, though.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice like he was sharing a secret. “I’m very competitive.”

 

“As long as you win me a blender or a giant stuffed animal I have no problem with that.”

 

“... A blender?”

 

He can tell from the look on Tony’s face that he can’t tell if Steve is being serious or not. “They have really nice small kitchen appliances.”

 

Tony sat back with a huff. “Kitten if you need a blender, I can buy you one. Hell, I could probably build you one.”

 

“Winning it would be so much cooler. Show what a big, strong alpha you are.” He’s trying really hard to sell it, but something must give it away because Tony scowled at him even while he smiled.

 

Steve realized Tony’s intent too late and ends up boxed in on his side of the table, Tony in front of him, the wall at his back. Thinking Tony was going to tickle him, Steve presses a hand to Tony’s chest, feeling the reactor under his palm. “Tony,” he began in warning, but was cut off by Tony’s lips on his.

 

His lips parted with a sigh, hands fisting in that ridiculous shirt Tony was wearing. Tony’s arms pulled him close, until Steve was kneeling on the seat, half sprawled across Tony’s lap. His moan was unbidden and Tony took advantage, slipping his tongue past Steve’s lips, exploring the recesses of his mouth. Steve wound his arms around Tony’s neck, gripping the hair at his nape with one hand, the rest of the world ceasing to exist.

 

One of Tony’s hands rubbed circles against Steve’s lower back, dominating, driving him crazy. Kissing someone had never felt more amazing. He felt so connected to Tony like this, everything was effortless. He could let go, sink into the feelings, because Tony would catch him if he fell.

 

All too soon, Tony ended it, parting their lips and running their noses together on the way. Steve’s eyes blinked open, gazing into the dark pools of Tony’s. His body felt lax, letting Tony support his weight, a purr rumbling from his throat—for Tony. He had never purred like this for anyone. What was it about Tony that brought things out in him he didn’t know were possible.

 

The look Tony leveled at him, intent and serious, Steve felt in his soul. A shiver worked its way up his spine and Tony’s hand stroked it away. “Steve, I…” Whatever he was going to say, Tony swallowed, a sigh ghosting past his lips. “Evenings not over yet. I still have a surprise for you and we’ll miss it if we get kicked out of here for public indecency.”

 

“We weren’t doing anything that bad,” he said, taking Tony’s hand, which he offered after sliding from the booth, to help him stand.

 

Tony tipped Steve’s chin up, running his thumb down his cheek. There was so much banked desire burning in his eyes when Steve looked into them that the heat felt tangible. Tony leaned down to speak his next words directly into Stev/ ear. “If that kiss went on much longer, we would have been.”

 

* * *

 

Steve knee where they were going when they were a few blocks away. Or not that he knew,  it he guessed. When Tony pulled over in front of the entrance on 5th, Steve wasn’t surprised. What did surprise him was when a stranger opened the door. A young guy, maybe around Steve’s age; tall and thin with dark skin and a bright smile, he stood to the side, while Steve stepped out onto the sidewalk.

 

Tony came around from the driver’s side and tossed the guy his keys. Tony placed a hand on Steve’s lower back and led him toward the stairs, pointing a finger at the other man over his shoulder as they walked away. “You scratch it, you bought it.”

 

The man shut the passenger door, gave Tony a half-assed salute, then rounded the car for the driver’s side. Steve didn’t see him drive away because they were walking up toward the door, but he asked who that was. Tony waved him off like it was an everyday occurrence to have someone waiting to drive your car away for you so you didn’t have to find parking. Maybe it was for him. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

Steve shrugged it off instead gazing up at the edifice of the Met, a smile breaking over his face. He loved this museum. He loved all the museums in NYC, but this one was beautiful inside and out, nestled on the edge of Central Park. When Steve had the time and money, he’d visit the museum then find a place in the park to sit and sketch.

 

The museum was startlingly empty inside, the heels of the woman approaching them echoed through the great hall. Gray hair in a bun, glasses perched on the tip of her nose, and dressed in a gray pant suit, she looked dour—like a disapproving librarian. She held out a hand for he and Tony to shake. “Mr. Stark. Good evening. Everything is to your specifications.”

 

“Great. Thanks, Estel.” When her eyebrows lowered, Tony’s smile slipped. “Mrs. Beeman.”

 

“Two hours, Mr. Stark.” After sending Tony a chastising look, she clicked away.

 

Tony spun on his heel with a clap “Where to first?”

 

“Are we the only ones here?”

 

“I bought the place out for a couple hours,” he said, shrugging, hands in his pockets.

 

“The entire museum? The whole Metropolitan Museum of Art?”

 

“Too much? Was it too much? It’s too much.”  He glances to the side then back at Steve. “Rhodey warmed me it might be a bit over the top. I didn’t listen.”

 

Knowing that Tony had talked to his friend about Steve and the date he was planning side tracked him for a moment. Okay, so, Tony rented out a museum. For him. That was nuts. It was ridiculous. It was also very Tony. “You’re unbelievable.”

 

“Now, see, I still don’t think you mean that as a compliment,” Tony said, mock serious, pulling a hand from his pocket to place over his heart as if Steve had wounded him.

 

He did, though. This time. It might be nuts and ridiculous and over the top and way too much, but when was Steve ever going to get a chance like this again? “European paintings?”

 

Tonylet Steve drag him to every exhibit he wanted to see, listening to the constant stream of chatter Steve kept up. He hadn’t talked this much at once in a long time. Or laughed. It was fun. Tony was interested in what Steve thought even if he didn’t get the appeal. About a particular painting of a wild flower filled field in Maine Tony had said that it looked like something Bob Ross would paint. Steve had laughed and told him that he guessed he could see why Tony would think that.

 

When a guard found them to let them know they only had thirty minutes, they went to see the Temple of Dendur before heading to the exit. Standing inside the sanctuary, with it’s gold statue of Isis, Steve stood up on his toes and kissed Tony. He meant it to be a quick kiss of thanks, appreciation for Tony making this night possible, but it heated, caught fire, burning the two of them up in its wake. Steve’s arms were around Tony’s neck; one of Tony's hands gripped his hair, the other had a firm hold on Steve’s ass, directing his movements as Steve rocked against Tony’s thigh. Steve felt out of control—not like when he was in heat, this was different, but no less intense—he just _wanted_. Wanted Tony more than he wanted his next breath.

 

Tony pulled his head back using a handful of his hair and trailed kisses down his neck, pressing his lips firmly to the gland just below his ear. Steve shuddered. “Shh, kitten. I’ve got you.”

 

And he did. Steve suddenly wanted to cry from the realization that, yes, Tony had him and he wasn’t letting go. So when Tony asked, “Are we still taking things slow?”

 

Steve answered, “Let’s go home.”

 

Steve would ponder those words later, wonder at his phrasing. Right now he just wanted to feel and he was safe in Tony’s hands. It was too soon, their relationship still tenuous, but he felt it anyway: Steve could fall apart and Tony would always put him back together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, this chapter didn’t go as planned, but I’m semi-happy with it. The thing I thought would happen in this chapter... didn’t. I’m thinking now that it will be next chapter. And after that there will be angst. Hilarity, but also angst. 
> 
> And I’m considering another background relationship that will develop later, but I dunno. I’ll have to see. The Bruce/Natasha and this other possible relationship might spark some short spin offs possibly at some point. Which would have the added benefit of possibly seeing Steve/Tony in the future after this fic has ended (which is still a ways off—unless I decide to branch off and make this a collection kind of thing). 🤷🏻♀️
> 
> Also, just to gauge interest who would be interested in a Tony/Steve college AU with a Chilling Adventures of Sabrina vibe (aka there are witches and magic and a Big Bag) set in an Alpha/Omega verse? Just wondering. Cause I’m not doing research for it or plotting it or anything. 🤣
> 
> eta: wtf my notes always so long? 🤦🏻♀️ I forgot to mention about the restaurant: I used a lot of actual info about Daniel in NYC. The do have a skybox you can reserve which comes with an 8 course tasting menu. The stuff I listed is actually food they serve. I picked it because I love Daniel Boulud and I would die if I ever got to eat at his restaurant. P.S. the general managers name is actually Karim. I gave up trying to be creative for that bit.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without further ago, hope you enjoy this chapter!

Tony would never get tired of listening to Steve moan. Never tire of being the one to make those sounds possible. Tony woke up early like he normally did, leaving Steve curled up with his head buried in a pillow. The sight of his kitten sleeping in his bed settled something inside Tony’s chest. 

 

The call he had taken from Fury in his workshop had soured his mood, but now at least he had a meeting, a chance to find out what Fury thought he knew, get a lead in Bakaar. The man had gone underground and Tony couldn’t find him when he had no digital trail. JARVIS was still looking, but so far nothing. 

 

The sight that greeted Tony when he returned to his room went a long way toward cheering him up. Steve was still asleep, curled on his side, the elegant line of his back facing the door, head buried in a pillow. But one of his legs had kicked free from the covers, slender limb highlighted by the light coming in from the window. The sun caressed the length of his kitten’s leg, the swell of his ass, the curve of his hip, and Tony’s hand followed the same path. 

 

Steve slept through the touch, but even in sleep his body followed the pressure of Tony’s hand, arching into it. When Tony’s hand moved up over his ribs, across his chest, brushing a nipple, the sound he made was music to Tony’s ears. Steve stirred, rolling onto his back, blinking open crystal blue eyes. “Tony?”

 

“You better not be expecting to find someone else in this bed.” He spoke the words against Steve’s lips before claiming his mouth. 

 

“Tony, I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet,” Steve said, pulling his mouth free. 

 

Undeterred, Tony trailed his lips down Steve’s jaw to his neck and spoke against his skin. “So? I don’t care.” 

 

“Well, I do.” 

 

Steve sounded shocked that Tony didn’t, even as he tipped his head back further to give Tony access, and he chuckled against Steve’s shoulder. He raised his head to look down at the omega who was coming to mean more to him than he thought possible.  _ And you almost told him you loved him last night _ . Too soon. Way too soon. He knew Steve still had reservations, could see it written all over his face when he though Tony wasn’t looking at him. Even though Steve said he forgave him—and be believed Steve wouldn’t have said that unless he did—Tony didn’t feel he had earned that forgiveness. But he would and until he felt like he had, there would be no talk of the L-word. 

 

He was lucking our enough by Steve coming home with him.  _ Let’s go home.  _ Tony didn’t want to read too much into those words. Steve didn’t mean them the way Tony wanted them to be meant. Not yet. Steve trusted him in bed, if not completely out of it. It was a start. One that he would take advantage of. 

 

“If you’re worried about bad breath, kitten, I have a solution.” Sitting back on his haunches, Tony got a firm grasp on Steve’s hips and flipped the omega over onto his stomach, pulling up so he was on his knees. Steve yelped at the abrupt move, looking back over his shoulder with wide eyes. There was no trepidation there, desire burning like two blue flames in his eyes. Tony took it as assent, moving a hand from the hip it cupped to wrap around Steve’s dick. His name left Steve’s lips on a sigh a sigh that turned to a whimper when Tony removes his hand. “What do you want, kitten?” 

 

“You,” he said, voice hoarse, hands fisted in the sheets. 

 

“I’m right here.” Tony strokes his thighs, tips of his fingers dragging up the insides, along the crease between hip and thigh. “If you want something else, be more specific.” 

 

“Asshole.” Steve said the word quietly into the pillow, but not quiet enough that Tony didn’t hear. If that was how he wanted to play it. Tony trailed a single finger up the back of Steve’s leg and up the cleft of Steve’s ass, smirking when the omega gasped at the feel of that finger circling his hole, teasing, letting the tip breach the rim. “Tony, please.” 

 

“Are you sore, sweetheart?” Tony hadn’t gone easy on Steve last night, despite his efforts to be gentle. Then Steve had told him he wasn’t made of glass and to stop treating him like he was. 

 

_ “I don’t want to hurt you. You had so many bruises last time.”  _

 

_ Steve rolled his eyes. “I bruise easy. I’m a little anemic.”  _

 

_ “Tony let his head drop. “Of course you are.”  _

 

_ “I take iron supplements. I’m fine!”  _

 

He took Steve as his word, and Steve didn’t complain once, no matter how hard Tony held his hips, gripped his hair or thrust. He just asked for more, begged. Now he panting, trying to push Tony’s finger deeper. 

 

“Kitten?” Tony asked when Steve didn’t answer his question. When all he received was a head shake, Tony turned Steve’s face so he could see him and raised his brows. “Use your words.” 

 

“No. No, I’m good. Please.” Sex with Steve outside of heat was different. He was less demanding, but still so needy. More… submissive. Pliant. So polite. 

 

“You want me to fuck you, kitten?” 

 

“Yes,” Steve moans. “Please… Tony.” 

 

“Alright, kitten. Whatever you want.” He would give Steve anything and he wanted it just as much. Tony pushes two fingers inside Steve’s hole, moaning alone with Steve at how he clenched around the invasion. Still slowly thrusting his fingers in and out, he reached over to the nightstand for a condom, holding it between his teeth so he could unbutton lower the zipper of his jeans. 

 

The way Tony had to shuffle to push his jeans out of the way one handed was awkward, but he was mesmerized by the way Steve’s hole stretched around his fingers as he rolled his hips back and forth, fucking himself on them. He palmed his own length, stroking it a few times before he ripped the condom open and smoothed it on. 

 

When he pulled his fingers free, Steve stilled in anticipation, panting. Tony sank into him, slowly, blanketing Steve with his body. Had to close his eyes once he’d borrowed out from how good it felt. Steve was hiding his face and that wouldn’t do. Tony gripped his hair and pulled his head back, painting his pink lips with his own slick that covered the fingers that had been inside him moments ago, before pushing them past his lips. Steve sucked them clean, moaning around them when Tony started thrusting, and Tony had to press his forehead between Steve’s shoulder blades when they both came because he wanted too much, things he couldn’t have yet. 

 

Lying on their sides waiting for Tony’s knot to subside, he pressed a kiss to Steve’s temple, petting his chest. He idly thumbed one of Steve’s nipples, chuckling sympathetically when Steve hissed. “Sensitive?” 

 

Steve hummed. “Little sore.” 

 

Tony didn’t think he’d been all the rough on that particular part of Steve’s anatomy last night, but he pressed another kiss to his temple in apology, pulling free from the tight clutch of Steve’s hole. He disposed of the condom, washed his hands, and placed one knee on the bed, arms on either side of Steve, who hadn’t moved an inch. Tony nuzzled his cheek. “Time to get up. You need to eat.” 

 

“You expect me move after that?” He grumbled, pouting a little, giving Tony side eye. 

 

Tony laughed. “Yes. Come on, breakfast. There’ll be coffee,” he cajoled. “If you want to brush your teeth, there are extra toothbrushes.” 

 

“Fine,” Steve said, rolling his eyes and sitting up after Tony stepped away from the bed. He stood there watching Steve disappear into the bathroom, shaking his head. Steve was not a morning person apparently. 

* * *

Steve came downstairs a few minutes later, just when the coffee was finished brewing and Tony was in the middle of scrambling eggs. Tony got distracted when he turned his head and noticed he was wearing not but a t-shirt. And not the one he’d been wearing last night. Which meant it had to be one of Tony’s. It ended mid-thigh and when Steve reached up to grab a mug from the cabinet above the coffee maker, the hem lifted just enough to reveal the bottom curve of his ass. His eyes stayed glued to that spot even after the skin was once again covered. After the mug was filled, Steve faced Tony, leaning against the counter and raised a brow when he caught where Tony was looking.

 

“Is that my shirt?” He heard himself asking the question and wondered why. He knew it was his shirt. The one Tony had been wearing last night, to be exact, with the cat shooting lasers from its eyes because Tony thought it was funny. 

 

Steve finished taking a sip from his mug before answering, sounding defensive when he does. He shifts uncomfortably and said, “It’s soft.”

 

“I don’t mind,” Tony said. Some people have problems with their partners taking their clothes, but the sight of Steve in his shirt is viceral, like a claim. It settles something inside him. “It looks better on you, anyway,” he told him before leaning over to claim his mouth the way he hadn’t been able to earlier. When the kiss ends, Steve blinks up at Tony before his nose wrinkles adorably, like a rabbit. His eyes cut to the side. 

 

“Uh, I think breakfast is burning.”

 

“Ah, shit,” Tony shuts the burner off and looks in the pan of now blackened eggs. “Well, this is inedible.” Sighing, he dumped them in the trash and dropped the pan in the sink. “Order in or go out? Think I’m done trying to do the making of the food. My culinary skills seem to start and end with French toast.” 

 

“Order in? Don’t know if I feel up to going out.” Steve is kind of sagged against the counter, clutching the coffee mug to his chest. 

 

A frown pulls at Tony’s lips. He puts his palm to Steve’s forehead like his mom had done a couple times for him when he felt sick as a kid for reasons that he can’t fathom. It doesn’t shed any light on the situation, anyway, because Steve’s head feels normal. “Are you alright?” 

 

Steve takes his hand and presses a kiss to the back and places it over his heart. “I’m fine,” he said, trying to reassure Tony, no doubt. “I think I might just be coming down with something.”

 

Stee said it like the possibility of him being sick was no big deal. Tony’s frown deepened. “You’re going to a doctor.”

 

“Tony,” Steve said, interjecting when Tony was about to ask JARVIS to find the nearest doctor, preferably one who made house calls. “It’s going to be impossible to get an appointment on a Saturday, if you can even find an office that’s open. If I still feel off in a couple days I’ll go to Urgent Care of something.”

 

He snorts at the idea of his omega going to Urgent Care. “I’m Tony Stark; nothing is impossible.”

 

“Be that as it may, it’s not necessary.” The eye roll is implied by his tone. “Seriously, Tony, I just want to spend a quiet day with you.” Steve patted him on the chest, smiling up at him. “Now, please get me some pancakes? You made me work up an appetite.” 

 

“Did I? Gimme some time and I can make you starving by the time the food gets here,” Tony said, reaching for Steve, but the omega side stepped his hands. 

 

“Not until I finish at least one cup of coffee first,” he admonished, pointing a warning finger in Tony’s direction and going to sit on one of the stools at the island. 

 

“Fine, fine. JARVIS, get me whoever has the best pancakes in New York.”

 

“Of course, sir. I also should tell you that Ms. Potts is on her way up.”

 

Wait, what? Tony has just enough time to walk out of the kitchen and take two steps toward the elevator before it opens and Pepper walks out. Steve freezes with his mug halfway to his mouth, Tony’s lips press into a thin line, and Pepper’s eyes are volleying back and forth between the two of them. She can’t fail to notice that his assistant is sitting at his kitchen island, on a Saturday, wearing nothing except for one of Tony’s t-shirts. Tony gives Steve a quick glance, noting his messy hair and the long expanse of his legs on display, and he’s looking at Tony with eyes so wide they seem to take up half his face. Carefully, slowly, Steve sets his mug down, asking Tony with a look what the hell they should do. 

 

And he has absolutely no idea. 

 

If it was anyone else, he would brazen through it in classic Tony style. 

 

If it was anyone else, it wouldn’t matter. 

 

Turning back to face Pepper, Tony opens his mouth, but no words come out. Pepper draws herself up to her full height, clears her throat. “I didn’t mean to intrude,” she said, eyes cutting to Steve once before she met Tony’s eyes head on. “I just needed to discuss some things—about work. We can do it later.”

 

“Pep, wait—” That’s all he can say before Pepper disappeared inside the elevator which had been waiting, with doors open for her. Thanks, JARVIS. His eyes squeezed shut and he ran his hands down his face before he turned to look at Steve who looks solemn. Should he apologize? Is this the type of situation that warranted that? He probably owed apologizes to them both. This was not how Tony wanted Pepper to find out, that was for sure. 

 

“Go talk to her,” Steve said before Tony could utter a word. God, he loved him. 

 

Tony felt a lump lodged in his throat. There it was again. He loved Steve. Was it even possible to love someone after, what had it been, a month? Whether it was or not, it was what Tony felt, deep down in his bones, in his cells. Floating around in the atoms that made up everything he was. He had loved Pepper, he really had, but his feelings for her paled in comparison to what he felt now. Steve was telling him to make things right with his ex and that was… just Steve, wasn’t? That was the kind of person he was. Tony didn’t feel like he deserved him. Closing the short distance that separated them, Tony pulled Steve into his arms, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. The feel of Steve’s arms circling his waist made his sigh. He spoke into Steve’s hair. 

 

“Order us breakfast. I’ll be back, okay?” Once he felt Steve nod, Tony stepped back. The moment felt unfinished, but Tony had nothing else. He tapped the counter with the flat of his palm and headed for the elevator.

 

Pepper wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen. He hesitated to check the bedroom; didn’t feel like it was his place to go in there anymore. This wasn’t his home. Not anymore. He went to the office instead, found Pepper seated behind the desk. He didn’t think he made a sound, but she must have sensed him somehow because her fingers paused on the keyboard. “Tony.” 

 

That was all, just the one word. There was no inflection in how she spoke his name, no clue to how she was feeling. She simply acknowledged his presence and resumed typing. Tony crossed the threshold and leaned back against the desk by her elbow, hands in his pockets. Should he talk or let her? And if he did, what would he say? How did you begin to explain ending a relationship because you didn’t feel capable of being in one, but still managing to be the first one to move on? 

 

“I didn’t want you to find out like that,” he said, staring at the wall. 

 

Peppers hands flatten against the keyboard. The sound it makes it quiet, but it  _ feels _ loud and Tony flinched. “How did you want me to find out?”

 

“Not like that.” Part of him feels resentful for needing to explain himself, but another, bigger, part feels like a cheating spouse who just got caught. 

 

She rubs her forehead. “What do you want, Tony?”

 

That’s the million dollar question. “I should have told you.” 

 

“Yes, you should have.” Pepper spins her chair around and even though she’s looking up at him, he feels so small. “Not even because we use to dte and we still work together and live in the same building. But because I thought we were still friends.”

 

“Jesus, Pepper.” He stands, takes a few steps then turns to face her. “Of course, we’re still friends.” 

 

“Are we?” Her brow is furrowed, head cocked to the side. The way she phrases the question makes it sound as though he’s a child and she’s not sure he grasps the subject matter. “Did you tell, James?”

 

“No,” he said, then, “Not exactly.” Pepper shakes her head and turns away, gazing out the window like maybe the answers to why Tony is the way he is will be found floating in the sky, eighty floors up. “I don’t know what’s happening,” he admits. “None of this, me and him, makes sense except that it does.” 

 

“I don’t know what that means.” Neither did he, but he didn’t say that. It would only did the hole he was standing in deeper. “How long?”

 

He pulls one of his hands from his pocket, scratches at his forehead. “We kissed the night of the auction, when I took him home. But officially not long.” Even not officially, it wasn’t long. No matter which way you slice it, their relationship was in the infant stages.

 

“You slept with him.” It’s not a question, so Tony remained silent. She knew him, after all, and a half naked omega wasn’t in his apartment because they were playing charades. Pepper sighed, looked at him. “This is going to be a public relations nightmare, you know that right?” He nodded. “Does Steve?”

 

“I don't know if he’s really thought about it.” He got a taste of it maybe when they went to dinner, but Tony hadn’t checked to see if any pictures of them ended up online yet. Once that happened any hope of privacy Steve had would be gone and Pepper knows that better than anyone. Only difference was, she had been in Tony’s sphere way longer before they started dating, and now she was a public figure all on her own. 

 

“You need to make sure he does. And you’re going to need to control the narrative as much as you can.” She turned away from him once more when he nods, staring at the screen of her computer, but remaining motionless. 

 

“Are we okay?” 

 

Pepper let out a slow breath but didn’t speak. Tony thought that’s the end of it, but when he turned to leave, she grabbed his arms. “We will be. Just… give me some time, Tony. Okay?”

 

In lieu of a verbal response, Tony cupped the back of Pepper’s head with the hand that wasn’t in his pocket and pressed his lips to the top of her head, much as he had done to Steve upstairs. But the gestures couldn’t have been more dissimilar. 

 

“Don’t hurt him, Tony,” she warned before he could attempt to leave another time, fingers still clutching his arm. 

 

He didn’t plan on hurting Steve, but seeing as how Tony hadn’t planned on hurting Pepper either, she wasn’t without reason to say it. The fact that she was looking out for Steve when she didn’t have to was one of the reasons he valued her friendship so much, and why he had fallen in love with her. “You’ve always been a better person than me, Pep.”

 

“No, Tony,” she said, looking sadder than she had when they broke up. “But you’ve neer been able to see who you really are.” 

* * *

SI was closed the week of Thanksgiving, which meant the Tower was mostly empty, besides a few employees who came in to work on projects and security. Which meant that when Happy drove Tony out of the parking garage for his meeting with Fury, it was almost empty. Steve had gone home, insisting on taking the subway, after spending most of the weekend with Tony. They had stopped by his place so Steve could grab a few things, but otherwise, they stayed in. They had breakfast on Saturday, before Steve went down with him to his workshop. Tony was almost done with the newest version of the suit—this one had gone a lot faster than the last. Could have been because he’d already built the second one and worked out a lot of the kinks. Could have been because he wasn’t constantly being poisoned by palladium anymore, which, surprise—compromised him physically, but also his mental capabilities. But Tony thought some of it had to do with Steve. 

 

Having Steve curled up on the couch, sketching things he wouldn’t let Tony look at, while he worked was surprisingly nice when he normally didn’t like having other people around when he worked. It was just him, some tunes and JARVIS because anything else was distracting, but Steve’s quiet presence wasn’t. And he liked having him close by, knowing where he was, that he was safe. 

 

Bruce had met Steve, too, which had been odd. Not because they didn’t get along, they had talked for a while and Steve even invited Bruce to stay for dinner (an invitation that was declined because Bruce was still wary around new people). It was that it felt like two separate worlds Tony had were colliding. He wanted people to know about Steve, he did. But he also didn’t want the rest of the world to intrude. It was a Catch-22. 

 

Tony pushed it away on the drive to SHIELD’s New York office, wondering if he would see Natasha. She had found Pepper another assistant (a real one with references, which Tony had personally overseen  the checking of) and Pep insisted she was fine without a bodyguard. Tony hadn’t felt he was in a position to argue. But it meant that Natasha hadn’t been around, which had been why Bruce ended up in the penthouse on Sunday. They two hadn’t ended things on a good note. Keeping the fact that she worked for the government which was trying to hunt Bruce down and turn him into a science experiment or a weapon? Huge relationship killer. Big surprise. 

 

Happy pulled over outside of SHIELD HQ and looked at him in the rearview mirror. “You want me to come along, boss?”

 

“Nah, Happy. I don’t think I’ll be long. Keep the car running.” Tony got out of the back of the sedan and went inside. Natasha was waiting for him in the lobby, dressed all in black, which seemed fitting for their reunion. “Romanoff.” 

 

“Stark.” She didn’t look any happier to see him than he was to see her. He wasn’t the one who’d been lying about who they were and spying on so-called friends, so he wasn’t sure what crawled up her ass. 

 

Tony let his eyes roam around the lobby as they fell into step headed for the elevator. “Legolas around here somewhere? Hanging in the rafters like a bat? Crawling in the air ducts?” 

 

“He’s on a mission.” 

 

“Don’t suppose you can share the details?” 

 

“It’s classified,” was her terse reply. 

 

They step into the elevator when the doors open and Tony rocks back and forth on his heels before shedding his wool coat. He dropped it over his arm and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Lie to any more of your friends lately or have you alienated all of them already?” 

 

Natasha turns her head in his direction, face blank. “I was doing my job. I’m not going to apologize for that,” she said, Turing back to stare at the elevator door when she was done. 

 

“Oh, come on. That’s it?” Why was he so angry about this? Tony was unfortunately acquainted with people stabbing him in the back: starting with his dad and ending with Natasha herself. Maybe it was just the principle of it. 

 

“Yes. That’s it.” She kept her eyes averted. “I do my job and bad things don’t happen. Sometimes that has to be enough.” 

 

“What if you are the bad thing? Ever thought about that?” His friendship aside, because Tony wasn’t always the best friend to have, she had most likely lost  _ Bruce _ and… how could she be okay with that? He’d bet his not so insignificant fortune that what she felt for the man was real and she was okay with that being gone? With her job, the things she did, making the choice between the two necessary? 

 

She does look at him then, her gaze intense. “Yeah.” 

 

“And?” Because Tony couldn’t help thinking about what he was doing here, about the suit at home he had built as a way to avenge the injustice done in his name—because of things he created. Yes, the suit had started out as an obsession with protecting himself when he felt so exposed, but it had become something else. And what if it cost him Steve and everyone else important in his life? He was already keeping secrets and to people he had promised not to keep secrets from. 

 

Natasha seemed to sense this wasn’t just about her and what she had done because her next words are deeper than their conversation requires on the surface. “Doubt is a very dangerous thing, Tony, especially when it’s life or death. If you have doubts before the mission even starts? You’re already dead; you just don’t know it yet.” 

 

“It’s that easy? You just… don’t doubt.” 

 

“I never said it was easy. Just that it’s needed if you want to survive.” The elevator pings and the doors open onto a very bland looking hallway. 

 

“Howard definitely didn’t have any say in the decor around here. It’s way too much Government Building and not enough ostentation,” Tony remarked as they walked. Natasha ignored him, but he swore he saw her tips twitch. He might not like her much right now, but he counted that as a win. She stopped in front of a door, gave a perfunctory knock, and pushed it open. She didn’t follow him inside. 

 

Fury was behind his desk, looking the same as he always did, with his eye patch and his leather jacket. Tony wondered sometimes if the man only owned one outfit. “Stark,” he said, looking up at Tony, folding his hands on top of his desk. 

 

“Nick,” Tony said, because he knew it would annoy Fury, taking one of the chairs in front of the desk. He took his phone out, like it was business as usual, and he just couldn’t be bothered to pay attention and had so many more important things to do. Except he was really having JARVIS hack their woefully outdated systems via the drive he’d plugged into the tower on Fury’s desk before he sat down. All he needed now was time, so he tucked his phone back into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and looked up. 

 

Fury’s lips thinned, his eye narrowed. He had the Disapproving Dad act down well. Too bad for Fury that after being raised by Howard Stark, Tony was immune. 

 

“You set one of your spies on me.” Tony said it matter if factly, like it didn’t bother him, and crossed one of his ankles over his knee. 

 

Fury shrugged. “I felt you warranted keeping an eye on. Seems I was right.” 

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

 

“We found the thing you built. In the desert,” Fury tells him, confirming his suspicion. They had gotten the suit he built. 

 

Still, Tony shrugs. “I built a lot of things that ended up in the desert. Didn’t you hear? Stane sold my weapons to terrorists. Or were you just going to keep on ignoring that?” 

 

“SHIELD didn’t ignore it, Stark. We just didn’t know about it until it was too late.” Fury says it like the admission is hard. He tosses a file Tony’s way then settles back in his chair, causing it to creak. “The Ten Rings are hard to pin down. Even harder now. But that,” he said, pointing to the file Tony had yet to pick up, “is all the information we’ve managed to gather on them.” 

 

“And what do you want in return for giving me access to this information?” Tony knew the Ten Rings were hard track. If they weren’t, he would have found something on them by now. The difference between him and SHIELD was that they had boots on the ground around the globe, even if most people thought they only operate domestically. There was much about the agency the general public wasn’t privy to. 

 

“We could use your help with a dilemma,” Fury told him, spreading his hands. Tony’s phone pinged, alerting him that JARVIS was in. Tony retrieves his phone and made a motion with his finger for Fury to keep going. The man looked less than thrilled, but he continued speaking. “Boy and girls in R&D have been working on reverse engineering a certain piece of recovered machinery that I’m sure you’re familiar with. But we’ve run into some… issues.” 

 

Tony could see that, as deep into their systems as he was. They had a more or less operational prototype, but they were having the same issues he had already solved in his own armor. And, oh, you have got to be kidding him. Tony’s head snapped up and he pinned Fury with an accusatory glare. “You had  _ Hammer _ touch my tech?” 

 

Fury’s eye widened before his expression smoothed out just as there was a knock on the door. An underling stuck his head in the door at Fury’s call. “Director, we have a problem.” 

 

“I’m in a meeting, Agent Sims,” Fury said, one eyed gaze locked on Tony, who was still scowling at him. 

 

“I know, sir, I’m sorry. It’s an emergency.” 

 

“Fine. Make it quick.” He sounded like he knew what it was already. Tony didn’t really care. The agent whispered something in Fury’s ear and was waved off. “I’ll handle it.” 

 

Neither one of them spoke until the door clicked shut and Tony was the first to break, because seriously? “Hammer? Are you kidding me? I feel dirty now; I may never get clean.” 

 

“His company consultant with SHIELD,” he said, flatly. “You hacked into our servers.” 

 

Tony leaned forward and pulled the drive from Fury’s computer, holding it up before picketing it. It didn’t matter now because JARVIS already had all of their information. “You spied on me first.” 

 

“This isn’t a game, Stark,” Fury began, but Tony cut him off. 

 

“No, it isn’t,” he said, standing to lean over the desk. “This is a weapon, Fury. One that  _ I  _ built and it has the potential to be a lot more destructive than any missal I’ve ever designed. And you let  _ Hammer  _ near it? Are you insane?” 

 

“He was never directly involved. Hammer was only privy to parts of the design plans.” 

 

As if that made him feel better. Tony fell back into his chair and ran his hand through his hair. Hammer was a pompous idiot, but he had smart people who worked for him. Pinched expression on his face, Tony told Fury, “I might be willing to consult—just consult—on two conditions.” 

 

“Go on.” 

 

“One, Hammer doesn’t go anywhere near this again and you better make damn sure he doesn’t have information on it stashed somewhere.” 

 

“And the second?”

 

“I don’t trust this in the hands of anyone from SHIELD.” 

 

“You do realize your father was one of the people who started this agency?” 

 

“Yeah and I didn’t trust him either,” he said. “Don’t interrupt me. Like I was saying, I don’t trust SHIELD, so there needs to be a certain amount of oversight.” 

 

“What do mean?” 

 

“I mean, I tell you who gets to pilot the thing.”

 

“That’s not how this works, Stark,” Fury said, sounding exasperated. “We’re a government agency. Some random person off the street can’t just have access to classified information.” 

 

“Oh, Rhodey is hardly a random person off the street. And his clearance is reasonably high.” 

 

“Rhodey? You mean, Colonel James Rhodes? He’s Air Force.” 

 

“Yup,” Tony said, standing and collecting his coat. “You want my help building the suit, which is your only option if you want it done right, you get him on board. Clear it with whoever you need to clear it with. I know you can do it, Nick; I believe in you.” 

 

Fury looked as close to apoplectic as Tony had ever seen him as he turned and walked toward the door. Over his shoulder he said, “Thanks for the file, by the way, but I won’t need the hard copy. I have everything already.” 

 

Tony saluted Fury with his phone and walked out of SHIELD. He had an omega to get home to and if what SHIELD intel said was correct, he apparently he needed to make a trip to Gulmira to return a favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh, deep, intense conversations. 😬 
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos on the last chapter. They really mean the world to me! ❤️ 
> 
> I have started writing my college AU fic, which is currently titled The Thrilling Adventures of Tony. It’s involving some world building, but the first chapter is almost done. I might just post it once it’s done and just work on both fics I have going simultaneously. If anyone had a preference, if I should hold off or just go ahead and post, let me know in the comments. I’ll probably still be working on it even if I don’t post it right away. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr: DyslexicSquirrel  
> I post a lot of MCU stuff. 😂


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not super, super happy with this chapter but THE THING THAT I’VE BEEN WANTING TO HAPPEN FINALLY HAPPENS. 
> 
> Well, one of them anyway. 
> 
> Hope you like it!

When Steve came back to the penthouse, Tony was sitting on the couch, scrolling through social media feeds. The conversation with Pepper made him realize he needed to be proactive about his media presence now that Steve was involved. Steve needed to be made aware of what came with dating Tony Stark. 

“Hey, sweetheart, you’re famous,” he called out, blasé, like it wasn’t a big deal. And it really wasn’t. This times There were a few pictures of them at Daniel on Saturday, but none of Steve’s face. The headlines were all click-baity and the articles were full of speculation as to who Steve was. It wouldn’t be long before someone connected the dots to the petite blonde he took to dinner and his new assistant. JARVIS was monitoring all the news feeds. 

“What?” Steve sounded distracted and Tony saw him in his peripheral head for the kitchen. Tony pushes up from the couch to follow and found Steve with his head stuck in the fridge, putting some things from a couple plastic bags away. 

“I said you’re famous,” Tony said, getting distracted himself by the way Steve’s ass looked bent over in those jeans. He’d never had sex in a kitchen. 

Scratch that, he’d never had sex in this kitchen. He hadn’t been thinking about sex before Steve walked in—there were so many other things crowding his mind (not the least of which was a call he’d be getting from Rhodey, he thought with a wince)—but one look at his kitten and all of that floated away. 

“What do you mean, Tony?” Steve straightened, turning to him with a frown. 

“What the fuck happened?” Tony didn’t mean to yell. He really, really didn’t, but Steve was standing in his kitchen with a bruise on his cheek and scrapped up palms.

“It’s nothing,” Steve said, shrugging like he didn’t have a bruise on his cheek. He closed the fridge and put the plastic bags on the counter, pulling out the items he hadn’t put in the fridge. 

“Are you kidding me right now? Steve, you look like someone beat you up.” There was a growl starting low in his chest and Tony felt like he was about to go on a rampage, except Steve wasn’t telling him what happened so he was like a loaded gun without a target. 

“I didn’t get beat up. Exactly.” Steve said the last word under his breath, but Tony heard it regardless. He moved to box Steve against the counter, knowing he was being an aggressive asshole, but he needed to shelter Steve from whatever had hurt him because he was apparently a shit alpha and couldn’t prevent Steve from getting hurt in the first place. 

Steve was not thrilled by his behavior, though. Not even a hint of a purr to placate the growling, angry alpha for him, oh no. They really needed to have a talk about Steve’s lack of self-preservation instincts. Not that Tony would ever hurt Steve—he’d cut off his arm first—but the omega was out in the world when Tony wasn’t looking getting not-exactly beat up? Not okay. 

“Tony, chill out. I’m fine,” Steve said, frown deepening. 

“Tell me. What. Happened.” Tony but the words out between his teeth in an effort to keep his volume low. He stayed close, but Tony did drop his arms. Steve didn’t give him credit for that. 

The omega’s arms crossed over his chest, expression conveying just how much he was not impressed by Tony’s posturing. Finally, he sighed and said, “There was this guy—alpha—at the market giving the clerk a hard time— hitting on her, trying to get her number. I told him to leave her alone.” 

“Uh-huh.” He did not like where this was going, but he forced himself to put on the breaks and swallowed down his growl and whatever other comments he had. For now. 

“He did leave and I thought that was it, but…” Steve’s baby blues met his eyes before focusing on Tony’s chest, right where the blue glow was shining through the fabric of the Iron Maiden t-shirt he’d changed into when he got home. Steve wasn’t put off by the ARC reactor, had asked Tony a few times why he bothered covering it up. Tony hadn’t been ready to share that yet—that he was scared someone else would try to steal it out of his chest the way Stane had—but he did stop using the prosthetic skin to hide it when it was just the two of them. 

Steve cleared his throat. “He was waiting outside for me.” 

“He touched you?” Tony was going through scenarios on how to track down one alpha in a city of millions. He could do it. He just needed time. 

“Not really. It was more of an accident.” 

“How does someone accidentally bruise up your face?” 

“He pushes me a little, it was really more of a pile to the shoulder. But I don’t know,” Steve said, sounding frustrated, dropping his arms and turning to take the rest of the stuff out of the plastic bags. His movements were agitated. “I got dizzy and slipped in the snow or a patch of ice or something and I just went down. My cheek his the pavement. The guy ran off. Coward.” 

“You got dizzy?” 

Steve shrugged. “Only a little.” 

“Has this happened before?” He was momentarily distracted from his plans to search and destroy the alpha who touched his omega. 

“Maybe once. When I woke up a couple days ago,” he admitted, begrudgingly. 

“Alright, come on.” Tony turned Steve around and steered him toward the elevator with a hand on his back in case he got dizzy again, so Tony could catch him. 

“Where are we going?” Steve asked sounding exasperated, but he didn’t fight it when Tony pushed him in the elevator. 

“To see Bruce.”

* * *

“Tony, I’m not that kind of doctor,” Bruce said, eyes sliding shut while pinched the bridge of his nose before sliding his glasses back on. It had been a given that Bruce would be in his lab. 

Apparently it was just Tony’s lot in life to be surrounded by omegas who were fed up with him and his bullshit. “So,” he said, shrugging one shoulder and trying to get Steve to sit down. “You’re still a doctor.” 

“I’m not a medical doctor. Tony, you have PhDs, does that mean you’re qualified to diagnose what may or may not,” he said, receiving a grateful look from Steve. Well, that was just crap because there was obviously something wrong with Steve if he was getting dizzy and was exhausted all the time. If he had some weird strain of the flu virus, Tony wanted to know so he could fly someone from the CDC in to fix it. “Be going on with Steve?” 

“Of course not.” Bruce’s face relaxed. “If I was, I wouldn’t be here.” 

Bruce dropped his face in his hands and when he lifted it back up, he was wearing that smile of his that wasn’t really a smile—it was just how he looked when he was uncomfortable and being too nice to tell someone to fuck off. Tony was on the receiving end of that expression a lot. “Okay, I can… I dunno,” Brice said with a sigh. “Take a blood sample, I guess? Runs some tests. If that’s okay with you, Steve?” 

“It’s fine, Bruce,” Steve told him, taking off his coat and rolling up one of the sleeves of his flannel shirt. Tony got the impression they were only doing this to appease him and get him to calm down and he was completely fine with that if it got Steve checked out. 

Bruce was efficient. Tony guesses with all the experimenting he’d done on himself, Bruce has gotten good at taking blood samples. After o let a minute or so, Bruce was pressing a cotton ball to the puncture on the inside of Steve’s elbow and folding his arm up to keep it in place. “Alright, I’ll let you know if I find anything, but I’m not making any promises. You should still go see an actual medical doctor, Steve.” 

“I will, Bruce, don’t worry.” Steve smiles at the other omega, keeping his one arm pressed to his chest as he stood. Tony grabbed his coat when Steve reached for it and Steve rolled his eyes. Oh, so Bruce got smiles and Tony got snark. That was fine, he could deal. He wasn’t apologizing for being worried. “And thank you.” 

“I’ll let you know when and if I get results. Go take it easy,” Bruce said, already pulling out slides. 

“Oh, trust me, I don’t think Tony will let me do anything else. Bye, Bruce.” 

“I’m not apologizing for being concerned,” Tony told Steve once they were in the elevator back up to the penthouse. 

“You don’t have to,being concerned isn’t the problem,” Steve said. “But if you try to bulldoze me like that again, I’m not going to be so forgiving. I don’t appreciate it. And you didn’t need to bother Bruce with this.” 

“Next time I won’t.” He didn’t want to hear Bruce’s bitching anyway. “Need to get you some ice. For the cheek.” 

“Should probably do something about this, too,” Steve said, holding his hands out in front of him. The scrapes don’t look that bad on closer inspection when Tony gently lifts Steve’s hand closer to his face. There’s some gravel imbedded in one of the deeper cuts, though. He lets Steve take his hand back. 

“How’d that happen anyway?” 

“Wasn’t wearing my gloves.” Steve doesn’t sound as if he wants to admit that and for once Tony doesn’t offer an opinion. But he thinks it. It was cold ou, Steve should have been wearing his gloves. Steve knows it, too. But his boyfriend isn’t a five year old and pointing out the obvious would just start a fight Tony doesn’t want to have. 

Once they’re back inside the penthouse, Tony get one of the first aid kits Pepper had insisted on sticking the place with because sometimes Tony burned or cut himself in the workshop and she’d wanted to be able to take care of it. Tony didn’t usually bother. 

And there was irony for you, wasn’t there. Or was irony the right word? He was getting worked up because Steve didn’t take good enough care of himself and Tony was the world champ of it. Reigning title holder. He placed gold. 

Tony sat on the coffee table in front of where Steve sat on the couch with a plastic bag full of ice wrapped in a towel pressed to his cheek, looking out upon. Tough. He could deal with Tony’s fussing. Most alphas got like that when their omega was hurt; it wasn’t just him. 

Taking the hand that wasn’t holding the ice, Tony placed it palm up on his thigh and dropped the first aid kit on the table next to him, popping the lid. He took out a couple alcohol pads, ripped them open, and started wiping down the abraded skin. 

“I’m really okay, Tony.” 

A grunt was his only response. He blew on Steve’s palm when the omega winced at a particular patch of skin being cleaned. 

“You’re not going to do something—I dunno—crazy, are you, Tony?” 

“Oh, I’m already doing that,” he replied, bandaging Steve’s hand after putting antibiotic ointment on it. He didn’t tell Steve that he asked JARVIS to check cameras at stores near Steve’s apartment until he found the guy who put hands on his omega. As soon as that happened, facial recognition would take care of the rest. Then Tony would be able to express how displeased he was at this alpha’s behavior. 

Let Steve think whatever he wanted. You’re not supposed to be keeping secrets, he thought. But was it really a secret if he admitted to it and Steve didn’t bother to ask for details? He was going with ‘no’ on that one. 

Steve’s lips thinned, but he didn’t say anything so Tony repeated the process on the other hand. Steve’s eyes stayed fixed on Tony’s hands as he worked. 

“So, what did you mean earlier?” 

“About what?” Tony placed Steve’s hand in his lap and packed up the first aid kit, closing it with a snap. 

“You said I was famous?” 

“Oh, that.” Tony has forgotten all about it to be honest. Making sure Steve was okay was more important. “Show him, J.” 

“Of course, sir.” The picture of them from dinner the other night came up on the tv. Steve stared at it. 

“I think they got my good side,” Tony said for no reason. Steve groaned and covered his face. He wrapped his arms around Steve and pulled Steve into his chest. “Hey, it’s not that bad. They don’t know who you are yet.” 

“‘Yet’ implies that they will.” Steve’s voice was muffled from his face being buried against Tony’s t-shirt. 

“Well, yeah. I don’t think it will take some intrepid reporter too long to connect the dots from my hot new assistant to my hot new boyfriend.” 

Steve peeked up at him, looking like a disgruntled puppy. “You’re just saying that so you can get in my pants.” 

“Kitten, I don’t need any help getting in your pants.” Steve doesn’t contradict him, just groans again and drops his head back against Tony’s chest for a moment before sitting up. Tony is loathe to let him go, but he drops his arms. 

“I guess this was bound to happen, right?” 

“Comes with the territory,” Tony says, getting up so he can sit next to Steve on the couch. “But this does present us with an opportunity to spin our own narrative instead of letting the media speculate. This time tomorrow, you might be my sister. The fact that you aren’t a woman and I don’t have a sister is irrelevant.” 

Steve’s lips twitched and Tony couldn’t hold back a smile. “What is our narrative? And how do we get it out there? You have more experience with this, so I’ll follow your lead.” 

It made Tony feel good that Steve was putting that much faith in him. It also made him terrified that he would end up letting him down. “Well, press conferences usually work. And as for the narrative,” Tony said, leaning forward until there was barely any space between their bodies, reveling in the way that something so simple could make Steve’s pupils expand. “We’ll go with the facts. I’m a genius, billionaire, ex-playboy philanthropist and I’m the luckiest man alive because you agreed to give me a chance.” 

“Tony,” Steve said in a whisper, face going soft. He cupped Tony’s jaw between his palms and Tony cursed the bandages for separating Steve’s skin from his. “You don’t need to work this hard. We already agreed you don’t need any help getting in my pants.” 

Tony laughed, the kind that shook your whole body and lightened your soul. “We agreed on that, did we?” 

“I didn’t disagree,” Steve said, shrugging. “Your ego is already big enough.” 

“I’ll show you a big ego.” Before Steve could move away, Tony’s hands circled his waist and he picked him up, depositing Steve in his lap. Steve’s sigh against his cheek when Tony pressed his lips gently against the bonding gland in his neck was enough to wash away all the bad things that happened today. The fingers running through the hair in the back of his head helped , too, until his shoulders relaxed. 

“How’d that meeting you have go?” Steve spoke against his temple, both of them enjoying the quiet moment while it lasted. As soon as people knew they were together, there would be less of them. 

Tony let his head drop against the back of the couch, looking up at the omega in his lap. His face twisted in displeasure, Tony told him, “Annoying. But also necessary. I got some information I needed.” 

“Anything you can tell me about?” Steve’s tawny brows rose. 

No secrets remember, Tony? No, but Tony wasn’t sure he wanted to tell Steve the whole truth either. He mulled it over before settling on, “I might be putting the suit to use sooner than I thought. Which means, I might be gone for a day or so.” 

“Oh.” Steve leaned back a little farther. Tony didn’t like that. “Is it going to be dangerous?” 

“Hey,” he said, erasing the physical gap between them. He was less sure what to do about the emotional one he was sensing. He didn’t think Steve would be this worried. He’d been in the workshop while Tony built the Mark III; he knew what it could do. “I’ll be fine. It’s the other guys who need to worry.” 

“Sure.” Steve stood and headed for the kitchen. “I’ll get a press conference set up for after Thanksgiving. Do you want to do it here?” 

“Yeah, that works.” 

“Great.” He smiles at Tony over his shoulder, but there was something off about it. “I was going to make dinner, if that’s okay.” 

“Like I’d turn down a home cooked meal.” Tony got up and went to sit at the island. “You holding out on me, Rogers? I didn’t know you could cook.” 

“Of course, I can. My ma taught me. She had to pass down all the stuff she learned from her ma, if nothing else.” Tony liked the Brooklyn lilt that colored Steve’s words when he talked about his mom and growing up. Tony had noticed it over the last few weeks. “But I can manage to make something besides French toast,” he told Tony, smirking. 

“Watch it, Julia Child. Your not too old to get a spanking for that kind of disrespect.” 

Steve spun around from where he’d been standing next to the fridge, looking at Tony with wide eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.” 

They ate dinner late that night. 

And, as Tony learned after finally letting Steve leave his bed—breathless and fucked out with an ass that was pink from Tony’s palm— wearing another one of Tony’s shirts he’d swiped, Steve who made some kind of stew really did know his way around a kitchen. 

And now he also knew Steve really enjoyed getting spanked. Tony filed it away for later.

* * *

The next afternoon, Steve was sketching the skyline outside Tony’s living room windows, as snow blanketed the city, when he got a call from Bruce. Steve leaned over to grab his phone off the coffee table, wincing when he put weight on one of the bruises peppering his backside. 

He couldn’t really say he minded, though Tony had felt bad this morning when they woke up and he saw the marks. Steve had tried to tell him not to worry about it, but Tony proceeded to kiss every bruise before rimming Steve until he came and begged Tony to stop. Then he brought him coffee in bed, pressed a kiss to his forehead (Steve hadn’t brushed his teeth yet, after all) and disappeared down into his workshop. 

Steve left him to it. He really didn’t feel like watching Tony tinker with the armor knowing he would be going off somewhere soon and there was a chance he might not come back. Sure, Tony was confident and the armor was impressive, but nothing was guaranteed. It was like how he felt when Bucky got deployed the first time, but… worse. 

He loved Bucky like a brother, but he just plain loved Tony. He wasn’t ready to admit it out loud, but it didn’t change the fact that it was true. And if Tony didn’t come back? Steve didn’t know if he could recover from that. 

Steve shook his head, trying to pull his mind away from thoughts like that, and answered his phone. “Hey, Bruce.” 

“Hi, Steve. Uh. Is Tony with you?” 

Bruce sounded off and masking if Tony was around had alarm bells going off in his head. “No. He’s in his workshop and I’m in the penthouse. Why?” 

“You know how I said I’d run some tests on the blood sample I took yesterday? Well, I… need to talk to you and wanted to do it without Tony around.” Steve wanted to ask ‘What? You need to tell me what, Bruce?’ But nothing came when he opened his mouth and Bruce was still talking anyway, the words rushed. “I know I’m not an MD, but I think you should still have the expectation of privacy and if you share this with To y it should be your decision. But I know how he can be and if he knew you were going to talk to me about this he’d insert himself.” 

“Yeah, he would,” he said. Cause what else was there to say? Steve didn’t know Brice that well, but he doubted the guy would make this big a deal if it was just a cold or the flu. 

“Did you want me to come to you or did you want to come to my lab?” 

Steve didn’t know when Tony would be back. It could be three hours or it could be twenty minutes so he said, “I’ll come to you.” 

“Great. I’ll have JARVIS let you in. Tony and I are the only ones who have access to this level normally.” 

Steve didn’t really care. He was already up and heading to the elevator before Bruce had finished talking and he hung up without saying goodbye. It was hardly a minute, but felt like five years, when Steve walked into Bruce’s lab. It looked exactly the same as it had yesterday, except now Steve shivered because being here felt ominous with whatever Bruce wanted to tell him hanging over his head. 

Bruce walked out from another room, dressed in a purple button down, gray slacks and a white lab coat. He seemed nervous and Steve thought he might be blushing. What the hell? “Hi,” Brice said, awkwardly. 

Steve blinked at him, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. He still had no idea what was going on, but people telling you you had cancer and three months to live don't normally blush like that, did they? “Hi, Bruce. What, uh, what’s going on.” 

“You might want to sit,” he suggests, but Steve is still too jittery to sit and besides, he doesn’t like being coddled. 

“Just tell me,” he says, making his voice firm. 

The other omega clears his throat and looks away before meeting Steve’s gaze. He takes a deep breath before blurting out, “You’re pregnant.” 

The room goes silent at the pronouncement and the two men stare at each other. Steve thinks his mouth is hanging open, and oddly thinks of his mother telling him, “You’re gonna catch flies like that, Steve.” 

He snaps his mouth shut and had to try twice before he can get the question to leave mouth in any way that’s intelligible. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” 

Bruce sits down on one of the rolling stools, heavily, and runs a hand over his mouth. “You’re pregnant. I ran the test on an off change. I didn’t think it would actually come back positive.” 

Steve sits down, too. He feels like he got hit with a two-by-four and seeing as he’d ended up on the wrong end of a stickball bat a time or two, Steve has a decent idea what that would feel like. “Are you sure?” He can’t help but as. Like Bruce had said, he wasn’t an MD, this wasn’t his field. 

“Pretty positive. I’ve run them on myself before. And I made extra money during grad school doing them for other students when they didn’t want a record of it.” When Steve doesn’t say anything, Bruce rushed on to reassure Steve. “Not that you shouldn’t go see a doctor or get a pregnancy test, but you’re also fairly anemic and that’s a common pregnancy symptoms.” 

“I’m already anemic. I take supplements,” Steve murmured, not really caring is Bruce heard him. His mind is going a mile a minute and the thought foremost in his mind is ‘How am I going to tell Tony?’ Followed closely by ‘How did this happen?’ Birth control wasn’t a hundred percent effective, but they’d used condom and Steve was on the pill. Shouldn’t that have been enough? 

“If you’re on supplemental iron, it shouldn’t be as bad as your blood work showed. The pregnancy might be exacerbating it.” Bruce gave him a pained smile and shrugged. “Could explain why you got dizzy. Has it happened more than once? Any other symptoms?” 

For someone who kept insisting he wasn’t a medical doctor, Bruce sure sounded like one. “A couple times, yeah. And I’ve been really tired lately. I thought I was just coming down with something.” 

“Your blood work didn’t show any signs of a viral infection that I could see.” He turned one of the screens around so Steve can see it, but it’s not like any of it makes sense to him. Bruce must see it in his face. “Besides the anemia, you’re completely healthy.” 

“Oh.” Bruce says some other stuff and Steve tries to pay attention, resorts to nodding at what he hopes are appropriate times when he can’t. He starts when Bruce places a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I won’t say anything to Tony. Whatever you decide to do, it’s up to you and you can take as much time as you want.” 

He nodded and headed back upstairs. It was nice of Bruce to say, but realistically, Steve had a finite amount of time to figure out what to do. Not only was there only so long he could wait to have an abortion—though, he thought, curling his hands over his still flat belly, that wasn’t an option for him and not even because he’d been raised Catholic. There was also the whole he-would-start-showing-eventually thing. And Tony was going to ask questions about what Bruce had found out sooner or later. 

What if he started getting other pregnancy symptoms? Like morning sickness? Steve couldn’t really expect to put Tony off for nine months while he was getting sick all the time. The man wasn’t stupid; he would put two and two together. 

Weren’t you the one that stipulated no secrets if it affected your relationship, he thought? He wouldn’t keep it a secret forever. He was going to tell Tony. Steve just needed time to process. He was twenty-five years old and he and Tony had only been dating for a little while. Now they were going to have a baby? 

Suddenly, Tony going off on some mission was not the only reason why he was afraid of losing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaaaaaaaaaasp. Good job to the couple people who guessed about Steve being pregnant. I’ll admit, ACCIDENTAL PREGNANCIES ARE ONE OF MY FAVORITE TROPES.
> 
> And as for the sex scene and the spanking that I kind of glossed over, I’m writing it, it’s started already, and I’ll probably post it as a separate fic for extras or scenes that just messed up the flow a bit too much to put them in. Knowing me, there will be other and not just in this fic lol 
> 
> Thank you for all your kudos and comments! They brighten my day. ❤️
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr because: DyslexicSquirrel


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? An update? Hey. Hi. :D 
> 
> This is a long ass chapter. It’s almost 6k words. But I was trying to fit a lot of stuff in and I didn’t want to leave it on a cliff hanger. 
> 
> And side note: while I’ve been editing the earlier chapters, I realized that there were some things I meant to that I didn’t. 1) is that I meant to have Natasha Be Natalie up until Chapter 6-ish. I’ve fixed that (might have noticed if you read the bonus chapter) and 2) I meant to have Bucky’s family be the MCU version and not the comic version, which I kind of put in as a place holder and meant to go back and change (I did still make his dad dead though). According to MCU, Bucky is the oldest of 4 kids, but they never mention names/ages/genders/etc so I just made him have three sisters and picked names that were popular in the 1930s/1940s. Who knows, maybe if/when the Falcon Winter Solider show happens we’ll find out more info about Bucky’s early life. 
> 
> But hope you enjoy this chapter! It’s not hella angsty.

Steve was antsy the next morning. He had seriously considered going home after his talk with Bruce, but that felt too much like running away. And besides he hadn’t wanted to leave, not really. He _liked_ sleeping next to Tony even if he often woke up alone, like he had this morning because Tony would wake up before him and go down to his workshop. Steve liked being with Tony, stealing his shirts and cooking him dinner and usually he slept better next to him than he did alone. 

 

He’d had so much trouble sleeping last night, though, that Tony actually fell asleep before he did. He had stared at the ceiling, worrying his lower lip until it hurt, one hand rubbing his belly. 

 

He was pregnant? 

 

He was pregnant. 

 

Steve had always wanted kids, had thought he would have them  _ someday _ . After finishing college and getting married, bonding with an alpha he loved who loved him and them mutually deciding to start a family. An oops baby with Tony had not been anything he foresaw happening. Ever. He didn’t even know if Tony  _ wanted  _ kids. 

 

This was a disaster. And he felt guilty as hell for not telling Tony yet, but… But. He didn’t want to blurt it out. He also didn’t want to do one of those cutesy announcements because Tony might want nothing to do with this kid he was going to have. 

 

The one thing Steve was sure of before he slipped into a fitful sleep around dawn was that he wanted this baby. Whatever happened with Tony after he told him the news was irrelevant to that decision. It would hurt for things to end when they were just getting so good (relatively). They’d fallen into a routine, but Tony could get very intense. Usually it was fine, but sometimes…

 

But, still, Steve would manage. His mom had raised him alone after his dad died; being a single parent might not be ideal, especially since if Tony wasn’t happy about it Steve would be out of a job, but somehow he would make it work. 

 

For his kid.

 

Because he was pregnant. 

 

He rolled over, groaning into the pillow. You just need to tell him, he told himself. Like ripping off a bandaid. Blurting might be the only way for Steve to get the confession out, he was such a ball of nerves. 

 

Confession? No, that wasn’t the right word. He hadn’t sinned. Okay, my Church standards he had with the premarital sex thing, but having a baby even out of wedlock (the word alone made him shudder) wasn’t a  _ sin _ . Right? And did he even care. Steve was still on the fence about religion anyway. 

 

Not the point, however.  _ Get back on track, Rogers.  _ He needed to find Tony and just… tell him. 

 

That he was pregnant. He sighed. He lifted his head, letting it drop back onto the pillow a few times. Not as effective as a wall, but this wouldn’t give him a concussion. 

 

Steve went through his morning routine and when he came back into the bedroom, he picked his pants up off the floor and contemplated his wrinkled tee. Screw it, he thought, and decided to keep Tony’s shirt on m. He put on his jeans and went to find Tony. Wasn’t surprised when he wasn’t downstairs in the living room or the kitchen. Steve knew where he would be, so he made coffee, filled two mugs, and grabbed a couple of muffins from a gift basket that had appeared on the island then headed for the workshop. 

 

He didn’t spot Tony when he walked in, but the glass all over the floor from shattered, glass panels that separated the large space made Steve frown. After setting down the two mugs and the plate with the muffins on one of the workbenches, Steve called out. “Tony?”

 

He hadn’t put shoes on before coming down and DUM-E was trying to sweep the glass up, but he was doing a horrible job of it. “Tony, are you here?”

 

“Up here, kitten.” Tony’s voice sounded odd and Steve glanced around, but it took him a while to spot him in the shadows, sitting on top of a cabinet. And he jumped, hand automatically flying to his stomach, because it wasn’t Tony he saw looking down at him, but glowing eyes in a gold faceplate. 

 

“God, Tony, you scared me. Why are you sitting up there? In the suit?” Steve took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down and dropped his hand from the telltale gesture. Glancing around at the destruction, Steve asked, “What happened in here?”

 

The--what had Tony called them?--repulsors fired and Tony hovered in mid air before landing on the ground. “Oh, just running some tests. Turns out the repulsors double as pretty good weapons,” he said, waving his gauntleted hands in the air. 

 

“Okay, well… that’s great?” This wasn’t going at all how he planned it. “I brought coffee and muffins,” he said, gesturing to where they sat, then he looked down at his feet. “But I think I’m going to need shoes if I plan on staying down here.”

 

Eerie glowing mechanical eyes followed and Tony cursed at the same moment the visor flipped up, revealing Tony’s face. Don’t move,” Tony told him sternly like he thought Steve was going to all of a sudden go running across the floor and pointing a finger at him as he walked further into the workshop, the sounds of the suit’s mechanics echoing around the space. “U could you help DUM-E with the clean up, buddy? J, get me out of this suit.” 

Tony stepped onto a platform surrounded by mechanical arms that started to strip the red and gold armor from his body. Once that was done, he walked over to pick up the mugs and the plate Steve had set down moments ago. “Let’s go upstairs. I’m more or less done down here anyway.”

 

“Everything working okay?” Steve asked the question so he didn’t tell Tony he was pregnant in the elevator on the way back up to the penthouse, but he kind of hoped Tony said no. If he said yes then that would mean he was going to leave soon to fix whatever he thought needed fixing. He was still being vague on the details. Steve didn’t even know if he wanted details. 

 

“Huh? Oh, yeah. We can talk about it upstairs, though.”

 

“Yeah. There’s something I need to talk to you about anyway.” Steve said, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “It’s why I came downstairs.”

 

Tony frowned down at him. “This isn’t the prelude to a breakup, is it? Because in my experience needing to talk is usually followed the ‘It’s not me, it’s you’ speech.”  

 

“No,” he said, placing a hand on Tony’s arm and shaking his head. Though you may want to break up with me after you hear what I have to say, he thought. “It’s about the blood tests Bruce ran.” 

 

Tony’s frown morphed to one of concern. “You alright?”

 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Just growing another human being, but fine. They went to the island when they reached the penthouse. Tony put their coffee and muffins down, and helped Steve onto a stool like he needed the assistance. While it would have normally annoyed him, the thing that Steve kept thinking was that in a few months he probably would need help to climb up on the stool. Which was probably why he looked up at Tony and said, “I’m pregnant,” without any lead in. 

 

_ You weren’t going to blurt it out, remember? _

 

Tony, who had been in the process of sitting on his own stool, missed the seat, and fell on the floor. 

 

“Tony, are you okay?” Steve left his seat and knelt next to him. 

 

“I think an aneurysm burst. Or maybe it was a stroke?” Steve kind of wanted to laugh but it wasn't because anything was funny. Tony was staring up at him with a stunned expression. Steve slowly shook his head. “You’re pregnant?” 

 

“Apparently. That’s what Bruce said, anyway.” 

 

Steve has to move out of the way when Tony stood, looking a little green. Then he watched as Tony paced, scrubbed his hands through his hair, and finally walked to the bar. He didn’t get a drink, though, hadn’t been drinking much (at least in front of him) since Steve told him about his dad being an alcoholic and suddenly Steve just wanted to cry. If Tony was willing to make that kind of change for Steve before they even started dating, maybe this wouldn’t turn out as badly as he feared. 

 

Tony gripped the end of the bar in his hands, head dropping between his arms. When he turned back around, Tony still looked shell shocked, but, Steve thought, like he was about to throw Steve out of the tower. “This is probably a bad time to tell you I’m leaving the country for a few days to hunt down terrorists, isn’t it? Don’t answer that; it was rhetorical.” 

 

“Terrorists? Tony, what are you talking about?” Of anything was going to make him forget about the fact that he was pregnant for more than five seconds, this was it. 

 

Tony went and sat down heavily on the couch. “I was trying to figure out how to tell you. That’s why I was downstairs.” Steve sat in one of the chairs across from him.

 

 “The meeting I had on Monday?” Tony wanted for Steve to nod. “It was to get information about the terrorist cell that kidnapped me. You’ve heard of SHIELD, right?” 

 

“Yeah.” He has no idea what they did, but that they were some kind of government agency. 

 

“They found out about the armor. Natalie—her real name is Natasha by the way—was planted here to keep an eye on what I was doing.” 

 

“Natalie works for SHIELD?” He asked the question, but it wasn’t that hard to believe, really. Not a lot of people could have taken down the gunmen at the auction the way she had. And there was the guy with the bow. And Natalie—Natasha getting them out of there without having to talk to the police. Steve had been preoccupied and hadn’t given it a lot of thought. 

 

Also, explained why she had been interviewing people last week. Or maybe not. Why would she have bothered if her cover was already blown. He was ending up with more questions. 

 

“She’s literally a spy.” 

 

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?” 

 

Tony shrugged. “I planned on telling you eventually, but it was nice spending time with you without any of that weighing us down. 

 

But it had been weighing Tony down.  _ Not like you told him you were pregnant the second you found out.  _ Steve pressed a hand to his forehead. “So what’s this about the terrorists? If SHIELD knows where they are, why aren’t they handling it? Why does it have to be you?” 

 

“Because I can. Because the man I trusted to run my company, sold them weapons that they’re still using to kill people. Weapons I invented.. Because the man who saved my life in that cave died and I made it out alive and now his village, where his family lives, is in danger. Because I caused this. It’s my fault, Steve, and I have to fix this.” 

 

“You can’t blame yourself for other people’s actions, Tony. You are not responsible for what they did.” He hadn’t realized how much guilt Tony was carrying around.

 

“Maybe not. But I am responsible for my own and I turned a blind eye for years and let Stane get away with what he did. I was too busy drinking, snorting and fucking my way through life to  _ pay attention _ .” 

 

“You’re an idiot,” Steve said in exasperation. 

 

Tony’s mouth snapped shut, a dumbfounded look on his face. Maybe it was the first time someone had ever called him an idiot. “Excuse me?” 

 

“I’m not going to tell you not to go on your crusade to write all the wrongs you feel responsible for. That’s not the kind of relationship I want us to have and you’re a grown man. You can make your own decisions.” Steve sighed, feeling drained. “What I will tell you is to make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons. If this is just guilt? You’re not going to help anyone, least of all yourself. You insist you’re not a hero, but… I think you could be. If you let yourself.” 

 

You’re so much more than you think you are, he thinks but doesn’t say. Tony is a flawed man, yes, but he’s also a good one. Nothing Steve tells him will make him see it, though. He needs to come to that conclusion on his own. 

 

Steve stood, rounded the coffee table, and stood in front of Tony, looking at the man he was starting to love more than he could say, the father of his child, and kissed him. He pushed everything he was feeling into it, hoping Tony could feel it. 

 

When he pulled back from the kiss, Tony was looking up at him with something lurking in his eyes that Steve couldn’t decipher. It almost looked like fear, which made no sense to him. One of Tony’s strong, capable hands lifted slowly and stopped to rest just below Steve’s naval. 

 

“I’m not running away. Just because I’m leaving, I—I’m not running away.” Tony stood, hand moving around to Steve’s lower back, keeping him close. Lips pressed to Steve’s forehead. “I’ll be back soon.” 

 

“Don’t make promises you might not be able to keep, Tony.” Steve tried to keep the tremor out of his voice and mostly succeeded. He felt Tony nod, which just made him feel worse because it was confirmation of the danger Tony was knowingly flying into. 

 

Steve could understand his reasoning, even though what he told Tony was true. He didn’t one hundred percent believe that Tony was doing this for the right reasons, or for the reasons he thought. But he also wasn’t going to tell Tony what he could and couldn’t do. Relationships built on demands and ultimatums didn’t last. Tony had been honest with Steve. He could have tried to hide it, but he hadn’t. Steve would support him and just hope and pray (something he hadn’t done in so long) that everything would be okay. 

 

“Let’s eat breakfast,” Tony said, leading him back toward the kitchen. “I’m not leaving yet.” 

 

When they were sitting down at the island, the plate of muffins between them, Steve paused with his mug halfway to his mouth. 

 

“What?” Tony asked after he swallowed his first sip. 

 

Steve looked at Tony with dawning horror. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to be drinking coffee anymore.” 

 

Tony looked a little uncomfortable, but he rallied. “JARVIS, what’s the 411 on coffee and… pregnancy?” 

 

“Just a moment, sir.” 

 

“And order—what’s that book?” Tony squinted, snapping his fingers a few times. “Oh, right. What to Expect When You're Expecting. Make sure Steve gets that.” 

 

Tony might not have said he was happy about Steve being pregnant, but at least he was trying. Steve really couldn’t ask for much more after dropping a bomb like that. 

 

And he was allowed to have one cup of coffee a day so things couldn’t be that bad, right? 

* * *

“What is up with you?” Bucky’s oldest sister, Sara, asked when she walked into the kitchen of Mrs. Barnes’ apartment in Flatbush, her year old son on her hip. She was the only one of Bucky’s sisters who was married and the only one with kids. He usually loved holding Ben when he got the chance, but Steve had been avoiding the baby since getting there because he was worried that everyone would know he was pregnant if he so much as looked at Ben. He wasn’t ready to tell them yet. 

 

“Hm?” 

 

She pointed down to the counter and Steve followed her finger to see that he had destroyed the pie dough he was rolling out. He cursed and set the rolling pin aside, trying to scrap the shredded pie crust into a ball before Mrs. Barnes came back. 

 

Waking up that morning without Tony had sucked. It had sucked even more watching him leave the day before. But he’d done it because he said he would. He couldn’t make Tony’s decisions for him. But it had felt like saying goodbye to Bucky when he left for Basic. So he might not have been paying attention to what he was doing. 

 

“You’re usually better at that,” Sara said, bouncing Ben when he started fussing. 

 

“I’m just a little distracted.” 

 

“What’s his name?” 

 

“What?” Steve’s head whipped around. Sara was smirking at him. 

 

“You’re ‘distracted’,” she used her free hand to make air quotes. “And you just messed up something you can probably do in your sleep. That screams, in your case, man issues.” 

 

Sara was a year younger than him, but even when they were kids he’d never been able to get anything over on her. He sighed and gave up on the pie dough for the moment. If they had one less pie for Thanksgiving dinner, everyone would be happy with four. 

 

“There isn’t really an issue. Exactly.” More like a million of them, but he wasn't going to get into the details with Sarah. 

 

“Ah-ha,” Sara crowed, fist pumping the air. “I knew it. Emma told me I was crazy.” 

 

“Emma knows?” Steve groaned. Emma, who had just turned eighteen a few months ago, was Bucky’s youngest sister.

 

“Oh, so does Clara.” Sara waves it off. “What do you think we’ve been talking about?” 

 

“Oh my god, did you tell your mom, too?” 

 

“Of course not,” she scoffed. “Ma would have told you to call him and have him stop over for dessert. I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

 

But gossiping about him behind his back was fine. “It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. He can’t come.” 

 

“Why not? We always stay here late, even if he is with his family right now.” 

 

“It’s not that. He’s…” How could he explain that Tony was fighting terrorists, in a metal suit that flew? “Out of the country.” Good enough. 

 

“Oh, big shot, is he?” 

 

“You could say that,” Steve muttered. Another thing he wasn’t ready to tell them about? That he was dating Tony Stark. They wouldn’t talk about anything else all evening if he did that and he might accidentally let slip that he was pregnant during the inquisition. 

It had been bad enough having Mrs. Barnes clucking over him when he showed up with a bruise on his cheek—a lovely shade of purple in the middle and going free around the edges. The scrapes on his hands were little more than scabs now (they hadn’t been as bad as Tony had made them out to be) and didn’t bother him even with all the rolling of pie crust he had been doing. Thankfully, they believed him when Steve said he slipped on some ice. He wasn’t exactly the most graceful person.

“What’s he do?” Sara switched Ben to her other hip and leaned against the counter on the other side of the galley style kitchen. 

 

“He’s a businessman.” Vague enough, but not too vague he hoped. 

 

“That’s impressive. And better than your usual type.” 

 

“Hey.” 

 

“Please. You have horrible taste in alphas and you know it.” She had him there, but he’d still needed to try and defend himself hadn’t he? Tony wasn’t perfect and their current situation was challenging, but Steve thought he’d made a good choice there all the same. “You should have just dated Bucky. Would have made everything easier for everyone.” 

 

“Ugh, no.” It was hardly the first time Steve had heard it, but it was no less disturbing after all these years. “That would be like  _ you  _ dating Bucky, Sara.” 

 

“It is not even the same thing! Don’t be gross.” 

 

“Who’s being gross?” Mrs. Barnes bustled into the kitchen with a plastic shopping bag in hand. 

 

“Nothing, ma. Steve and I were just having a disagreement,” Sara said. 

 

“Don’t fight with your brother,” Mrs. Barnes chastised, offhandedly, squeezing past Steve and Sara to set the bag on the counter further in the kitchen. Mrs. Barnes has always considered Steve an unofficial part of the family and Steve stuck his tongue out at Sara who rolled her eyes at him. “I got to the store just in time,” she said, triumphantly, holding up two cans of cranberry sauce. 

 

“Wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without it, ma.” Sara pressed a kiss to Mrs. Barnes’ cheek. That gelatinous mass in the shape of a can was Bucky’s favorite part of Thanksgiving for an unfathomable reason and Mrs. Barnes always made sure to have it even when Bucky was absent. 

 

“I can’t believe I almost forgot it.” 

 

Steve smiled wistfully as he tried to salvage the pie crust he’d been rolling earlier. Mrs. Barnes opened the oven to switch out one casserole for another and Sara bounced Ben making him laugh. 

 

“Maybe you wouldn’t if you let someone help you cook dinner,” Sara told her mom. They had the same argument every year. 

 

“No, no. It’s my job. And it’s the only thing I get to do for the whole family now since you and Bucky moved out and Clara is at college. Emma is gonna be going to college next year.” 

 

“Ma,” Sara groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically. “You act like we all live on the other side of the country. Emma and Clara still live here and I moved to a different borough not a different country.” 

 

Steve tried not to laugh when Mrs. Barnes sniffed. As far as she was concerned, living outside of Brooklyn was a sin. But then she rounded on Steve, shaking a finger in his face. “And this one. We’re lucky if we see him once a year.”

 

“I’ve just been busy, Mrs. Barnes,” Steve sputtered. 

 

She patted his cheek. “We just miss you, that’s all. I know you’d be here if you could.” 

 

It was mom guilt as it’s best and it hit Steve doubly hard because he’d chosen to not be there when he could. Steve hadn’t thought his prescience would have been missed so much. He loved the Barnes family, but he hadn’t considered how much they loved him and how his absence was felt. 

 

“I’ll try to be around more, Mrs. Barnes,” he told her, transferring the rolled out pie dough to the pie tin. 

 

“Oh,” she said, waving him off. “You’ve got that fancy job now. What is it you’re doing again?” 

 

“I’m a personal assistant.” 

 

“How’d you land a job like that?” Sara’s brows climbed her forehead. Her and her husband George had been running late and missed Steve telling her mom and sisters about his new job. 

 

“I’m still not really sure,” he said, laughing, dumping the apple filling into the pie crust. He shrugged. “It was kind of a lucky break.” 

 

“Is your boss nice? Anyone we would have heard of?” 

 

“Oh, uh, yeah. He’s nice.” He’s great in bed and he makes great French toast, which I know because I’m dating him, he thought, trying not to wince. “And maybe? It’s Tony Stark.” 

 

The room went silent and he could feel both women’s eyes boring into the back of his skull while he put the crumb topping on the pie.

 

“Shut the fuck up,” Sara breathed. 

 

“Sara!” 

 

“Sorry, ma! But seriously? Steve works for Tony Stark. How could you not tell us sooner that you work for Tony Stark?” Steve turned to find Sara, and a baby Ben, staring at him with wide eyes. “What’s he like in person? Is he as handsome in person?” 

 

“Sara Jean Barnes McKenzie, you are a married woman.” Mrs. Barnes was giving her daughter a disapproving look, hands set on her slim hips. 

 

“So,” Sara said shrugging. “I’m married; I ain’t dead.” 

 

Steve laughed and then laughed harder when Mrs. Barnes transferee the glare to him. He hadn’t realized how much he missed them. Steve had been acting like he had no family now that his mother was gone and Bucky was away, but he’d forgotten about  _ this _ . Maybe it was the fact that he was going to have his own kid soon or it could just be the hormones, but he needed Mrs. Barnes to know how much he appreciated her. 

 

She seemed surprised when he hugged her, probably because Steve hadn’t done it other than to say hello when she answered the door since he was a kid. She clucked her tongue, her arms circling him, and she held him for a few moments before pulling away and smoothing her hand over his hair. 

 

“Alright, that’s enough of that. We need to get this dinner finished. Hand me that pie, Steve.” 

 

He did as she asked them leaned closer to Sara and said under his breath, “He’s so much better looking in person.” 

 

The both started laughing and Mrs. Barnes shooed them out of the kitchen. 

 

Two hours later they were all squeezed around the dining room table, eating dinner and laughing when Emma gasped and pointed at the window. “Ma, there’s a robot on the balcony!” 

 

Everyone turned to look and sure enough there were familiar glowing eyes peering in at them from the balcony. 

 

“Someone call the cops!” Mrs. Barnes was getting up to get the phone and Sara grabbed Ben and moved to the other side of the room. 

 

Steve groaned. What in the hell, Tony, he thought looking heavenward before standing to stop Mrs. Barnes before she could dial 911. “Don’t, Mrs. Barnes. That’s…” he glanced toward the window where Tony was waving at him and rolled his eyes. “That’s my boyfriend.” 

 

“You’re dating a robot?” Emma exclaimed. “That’s so cool!” 

 

“He’s not a robot,” he said, sounding out upon and marched over to open the window, letting in the cold November air. “He’s inside the robot.” 

 

God, that sounded awful. And Tony wasn’t helping. 

 

“It’s not a robot, kitten,” Tony’s mechanized voice said, sounding insulted. Then it went flirtatious. “But if you want me inside something…” 

 

“Tony!” This was not happening. He could feel the blush heating his cheeks. Then he realized what he had said when he heard a round of gasps behind him. Turning slowly, he saw six pairs of wide eyes staring at him. 

 

“Is that Tony Stark?” Sara whispered, pointing at Tony. The faceplate of the armor lifted, revealing his boyfriend’s face. 

 

“And here I thought I would be the one to out myself to the public.” Tony waved, a charming smile firmly on his handsome face. “Hi there.” 

 

“You’re dating Tony Stark and you didn’t  _ tell us _ .” Clara smacked his arm, glaring. 

 

“Sorry.” He rubbed his arm, turning back to Tony. “What are you doing here?” 

 

“Well, that’s a bit of a story. I could come in and tell you, but I’ll have to go around to the front of the building and come up cause I don’t think I can get through the window.” 

 

“Just stay there. I’ll grab my coat and come out.” 

* * *

_ Five hours earlier  _

 

Tony flew away from the last cache of his weapons the Ten Rings had, the fire from the explosion still lighting up the sky. Destroying the caches had taken no time at all, just a fly over and he sent a middle to blow it up. He’d spent the most time in Gulmira, but even then, he’d o let been there for a few hours. He had left the clean up, as it were, to the villagers. 

 

It had taken most of Wednesday to fly to Afghanistan, a place he hadn’t ever wanted to go back to. Tony has outfitted the jet with the equipment to put the suit on because it seemed easier to fly that way than risk flying the suit into foreign airspace without a flight plan. 

 

He was on his way back to the airport now feeling drained. He just wanted to get back to Steve. He had both wanted to run and wanted to stay after Steve broke the news about his pregnancy. He was scared out of his mind at the thought of being a father. He didn’t exactly have the best role model in his own father. He’d had a Jarvis growing up, though. His butler had been more of a father than his own in so many ways. 

 

Still, he’d never given a thought to kids. Pepper had been his only serious relationship and they hadn’t discussed it, hadn’t been there yet despite being together for years. 

 

And now it was happening whether he was ready for it or not. One thing he was sure about was that he would not, under any circumstances, give Steve up. Not now. And if that meant getting okay with being a dad? Then that’s what he would do. He had figured that out somewhere between blowing up the second and third weapons stockpile. 

 

He needed to tell Steve. If his omega doubted for even one second that Tony was all in, he’d never forgive himself. Except with the layover to refuel, the flight back to New York would take somewhere around twenty hours. That suddenly seemed too long. 

 

“Hey, J?” 

 

“Yes, sir?” 

 

“How long would it take to get back home in the suit?”

 

“With thruster are full capacity, about five hours sir.” 

 

“So, change of plans. Let Happy know to take a jet back alone. Set autopilot. I’m going to take a nap,” he told the AI.

 

“Of course, sir.” The HUD lit up with the flight plan. 

 

“Oh, and let’s try and not get me shot down by anti aircraft missiles, would you, JARVIS?” 

 

“I will try my best, sir.” 

 

The repairs and the booster attached to the back of the suit’s legs fired. Tony closed his eyes, but he knew he would be able to actually sleep until he was in bed next to Steve. 

* * *

_ Present _

 

“You flew back from Afghanistan in that thing?”

 

“Yeah,” Tony confirmed, shifted on his feet, the metal of the boots making clunking sounds on the fire escape. He was a little worried about the whole thing collapsing under the weight of the two of them and the armor. “Not to change the subject, but remind me later to make the set suit lighter. And also a way to get in and out of it without the equipment back at the lab.” 

 

“Tony.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Sorry.” This conversation was so much more awkward in the suit and him going off on a tangent wasn’t really helping. He was afraid that he was going to crush Steve’s hands when he took them. “So, we never really finished the conversation we started yesterday.” 

 

“Uh-huh.” Steve face was mostly in shadows, the only light the one coming from inside, but some of it was being blocked by the people he assumed were Barnes’ family constantly walking past the now closed window. Not that he could blame them for their curiosity. Even in the low light, Tony could tell Steve looked nervous. 

 

He was nervous himself. He’d had nothing but time to think on the way back to New York and what he was about to tell Steve seemed like a good when he was somewhere over the Pacific, but now when he was about to say it out loud it seemed like the worst idea ever. 

 

“Whatever you what to do, I will be right there with you. To quote some movie I can’t remember the name of right now, ‘I’m in. I’m all in.’” 

 

“Really?” Steve smile was tremulous, but he was smiling. “Are you sure, Tony? Cause I don’t want you to feel pressured—”

 

“Hey,” Tony interrupted. “I’m trying to have a heartfelt conversation with my boyfriend right now. I’d appreciate if you didn’t interrupt.” 

 

“I’d hit you, but I think I’d break my hand.” 

 

“Please, don’t do that. I might be wearing bulletproof  armor that can apparently withstand a rocket launcher…” 

 

“What?” Steve exclaim med, but Tony kept talking. 

 

“Probably not the best thing to admit, right now, but the point I was trying to make is that if you broke your hand hitting me, I think the scary, older woman I’m assuming is Mrs. Barnes, would find a way to murder me.” 

 

“More than likely.” The smile slipped off Steve’s face and he crossed his arms over his chest, looking up at Tony in disapproval with a good dose of worry. “Did you really get shot with a rocket launcher?” 

 

“Maybe? Hard to tell. The details are a little fuzzy.” Moving on, before he lost his nerve. “ I also wanted to say that I’m thinking about… therapy.” 

 

“Therapy?” 

 

Tony leaned against the wall of the building because he thought the railing might break. “You know, the laying on a couch for an hour and paying through the nose kind.” 

 

“If… if that’s what you want to do, Tony, but don’t think you need to do it for me,” Steve said, resting his hands on the chest plate. 

 

“I know you wouldn’t.” And maybe that was part of the reason Tony was doing it. Because for once there was someone in his life who wasn’t asking. He came to the decision on his own, and maybe it was a long time coming, but no one had forced him to it. Or he guessed, maybe his unborn kid did in a way, but it was still his choice. “But I’m doing it anyway. Long as I can find a shrink who gets my jokes.” 

 

Steve laughed, but it sounded watery. “Can you really not get out of this thing right now?” 

 

Tony made a sound of frustration. “Not unless I go home.” 

 

“Then let’s go home,” Steve said, pushing the window open. Over his shoulder, he told Tony, “Maybe I can even convince Mrs. Barnes to let me take some pie home.” 

 

The phone was ringing inside and did people really still have landlines at home? Steve was halfway through the window when Mrs. Barnes picked it up to answer, one of the young women inside telling her, “Ma, you know it’s probably a telemarketer.” 

 

“Hello?” 

 

Steve stood frozen inside when the woman shouted, “What? No. No, no.” 

 

Tony couldn’t see everything from where he was standing and cursed the armor, but he heard something drop, someone said, “Ma, what’s wrong.” 

 

Steve rushes further into the room and Tony stuck his head through the window, hands braced on the sill. Mrs. Barnes was collapsed in a chair, two of who he thought might be her kids from the similar facial features and dark hair. A third shoved a baby at a man with red hair and glasses, bending to pick up the phone. 

 

“James,” came the choked reply. “Oh, God, James.” 

 

“Who the hell is this? What did you say to my mom?” The woman who picked up the phone was scowling, vibrating with rage while she yelled at whoever was on the other end of the phone. But shock quickly took its place. “What? When?” 

 

Everyone was staring at her, waiting to hear what she said next. She reached behind her and placed a hand on her mom’s shoulder, blinking back tears. “Okay, thank you. Thank you for telling us.” 

 

“Sara, what is it?” The one who was wearing a mini skirt and Batman tee asked the question. 

 

Her sister—Sara—slowly placed the phone handset back in the charger. When she turned back around, she looked calm despite the tears clinging to the corners of her eyes. “That was some army guy. Uh, Bucky was hurt. He’s hurt, but he’s going to be okay?” She sounded a little unsure. She had to clear her throat before she spoke again. “They’re sending him home. Back to the States, at least.” 

 

“When?” The third daughter, who was wearing a floral dress and had glasses, asked. 

 

“I don’t—I don’t know. I didn’t really catch half of what the guy said. But Bucky’s coming home.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is coming state side! Yay! Butt he did get hurt. Oops. He’ll be fine. But Bucky! Yay! 😂  
> I have absolutely no fucking clue how the army would actually go about notifying a soldier’s family that they’re getting honorably discharged from the army due to medical reasons so I went with phone call cause it was easy. 🤷🏻♀️ 
> 
> And as for To y flying back from Afghanistan in the suit, I found a post online that mentioned Tony had made it from Miami to Afghanistan in like 5 hours in IM1 and for expediency I went with that. Cause. Flight is legit like 14hr of actual airtime, but could take closer to 22 with layovers/having to stop to refuel/etc. I ain’t got time for that. 
> 
> So, yeah, I am making Tony go to therapy! I’ve been working up to this since the beginning. I always knew I was going to have him go to therapy. It’s why I mentioned his mental health so much. 
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and I love getting your comments! ❤️


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK AN UPDATE. YAY. 
> 
> Enjoy and thank you so much for your comments and the kudos. They warm my cold, dead heart. 🖤

Tony cursed when he hit his head on the window as he shifted, knocking it against the helmet of the suit. The daughters were helping Mrs. Barnes move to the couch, the red-haired guy was bouncing the baby and Steve came out of the kitchen with a glass of water. And Tony, well, he felt like he was intruding, but he didn’t want to leave Steve. He did need to get out of the suit, though. It was clunky and he was afraid he’d break something if he came inside the apartment in it. But Steve was very much not paying attention to him and Tony didn’t want to just leave without telling him. He’d done that before; hadn’t gone over well. 

 

“Psst, Steve.” Okay, admittedly not the best way to get someone’s attention during an emotionally charged family moment, but it worked and that’s all the mattered. Ginger and the baby looked his way, but so did Steve, who rolled his eyes and walked over. 

 

“What?” 

 

“Gonna head back to the penthouse, ditch the suit,” he said, keeping his voice low.  “Then I’ll come back.” 

 

“You don’t have to.” He says the words, but his eyes go soft with appreciation. 

 

“I don’t  _ have _ to, but I am.” He smiled, but it didn’t last long before it fell, holding out a hand for Steve. He wouldn’t have blamed Steve if he hesitated, he knew what the suit was capable of after all, but he took Tony’s hand immediately, trusting Tony not to crush it in his grip, and even though Tony can’t feel it through the suit he knew Steve was holding on tight. Tony pulled him close, pressing a kiss to his lips. It’s gentle and brief and awkward in the suit, but Tony can’t not do it. “I’ll be back soon.” 

 

“Okay,” Steve said, giving Tony a sweet smile.

 

“Hey,” Tony said, sticking his head back in the window. “You want me to look into this?” 

 

“Look into...” He frowned, before his eyes widened after Tony raised his brows. “That’s illegal.” 

 

“Eh, if the DOD didn’t want me in their system, they wouldn’t make it so easy,” Tony said, unconcerned. “JARVIS will do the heavy lifting. I’ll have anything they know about your friend before I get back. They won’t even know I was there.” 

 

Steve was conflicted, biting his lip, but he nodded. No one had been in the right frame of mind to listen to the blowhard on the phone (Tony has enough experience with the army to feel confident in his assertion that who ever had been on the other end was, in fact, a blowhard because who called an injured soldier’s family on a holiday to deliver news like that?) so there wasn’t another way to find out what happened without spending hours trying to get connected to someone who wouldn’t even be able to tell them much. 

 

“Thank you,” Steve said. Tony opened his mouth, but Steve cut him off. “It’s no big deal, I know. I’m still saying thank you.” 

 

“You can thank me later,” he said before the faceplate snapped back into place and he flew away. He had just told JARVIS to find anything he could on the current status of James Buchanan Barnes when Tony realized how unintentionally sexual what he’d said before he had left sounded. Maybe Steve hadn’t noticed. 

 

Tony was out of the suit and changed into jeans, a t-shirt and an old MIT sweatshirt and in the elevator heading down to the garage, when JARVIS gave him an update. “Send it all to my phone.”

 

“Of course, sir.” 

 

Tony’s fingers itched with the desire to scroll through the files, but he resisted in favor of getting behind the wheel of his Audi and heading back to Brooklyn. The drive didn’t take long, most people either still enjoying family gatherings or already lining up outside stores waiting for them to open at midnight, and when Tony knocked on Mrs. Barnes’ door, the oldest daughter, Sara, opened it. Her eyes, an odd shade of blue that Tony thought she shared with her brother from the few photos he’d seen, were slightly wide. 

 

“I can’t believe Tony Stark is in my mother’s apartment,” she said to herself, stepping back to let Tony enter. 

 

He smiled at her as she closed the door. Then Steve was there and Tony was hugging him and stuck his nose in his omega’s hair, breathing him in, trying to forget what he’d done in Afghanistan because it hadn’t made him feel any better. It’s not about him right now. “Hey, kitten.” 

 

Steve sighed against his chest. “Hi.” They held each other for a moment more and Steve pulled away sooner than Tony would have liked. But then again tomorrow would have been sooner than Tony liked. “Let me introduce you.” 

 

“You just want to show off your rich boyfriend, admit it,” Tony said, trying to lighten the mood. 

 

“That’s exactly it. You got me, Tony.” Steve rolled his eyes, but he took Tony’s hand leading him a few steps farther into the apartment. “Uh, everyone. I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Tony.” 

 

All eyes were on them, but Tony was used to scrutiny and just gave a little wave like he had earlier when he was still in the suit. Steve put names to all the faces: Mrs. Barnes (who’s eyes were red rimmed, but still asked if he wanted anything to drink, which he declined); Sara, her husband George, and their son Ben (the baby being the only one who couldn’t care less who Tony was); and the other two daughters Emma and Clara (the former who gave him a shy smile and the latter who looked to be biting her lip to stop from bursting out with a million questions, bouncing on the balls of her feet). 

 

Mrs. Barnes got up from the couch. “We haven’t had dessert yet. I’ll go put the coffee on.” 

 

“Ma, you don’t have to—” Sara started, but her mother waved her off. 

 

“You sit, Mr. Stark. A guest shouldn’t be standing.” She headed into the kitchen and everyone except Tony exchange worried glances. 

 

Tony took his phone out of his pocket, pulling up the files JARVIS had found, scanning through them quickly, while he took Steve over the couch and sat down with him. He frowned at the medical records, but the after action report had him shaking his head. Jesus, this guy was lucky to be alive at all. But he was alive and that was the important part. It just looked like his military career was over. 

 

“They’re sending him to Walter Reed,” he told Steve. He’d meant to speak just quietly enough for Steve to hear, but the room was small and Sara, who was standing closest, heard. 

 

“What? How do you know?” 

 

“Tony has… connections?” Steve said, horrible liar that he is, at the same time Tony shrugged and told them, “I did some light hacking.” 

 

Steve shot him a disgruntled look, but Tony put his arm around his shoulder and pulled him closer. Steve sighed and settled into his side. 

 

“What else did you find?” Sara asked and perched on the arm of the couch near Tony’s arm, Emma and Clara squeezed onto the opposite end and George sat in an armchair with Ben in his lap. Look at him having a healthy-ish relationship and getting along with the pseudo-family. Who knew all it took was bonding over his illegal activities. 

 

Tony gave them the highlights, leaving out the fact that Bucky had fallen out of a helicopter after being shot trying to pick off enemy targets while his team was being evaced. He just told them Bucky had been shot, separated from his team, and rescued later after being hidden by some locals, which was true. Steve could read the full files later and decide what else to tell them. 

 

He didn’t know how to broach the subject of the extent of Bucky’s injuries, however. Like the fact he was short his left arm because the damage to it from the fall and not getting medical attention for weeks had been so severe or that he would need physical therapy to walk after the breaks in his left leg and hip healed. The decision was unnecessary because Mrs. Barnes came out of the kitchen and told them it was time for pie and coffee. Her tone brooked no argument and no one tried. 

 

For the next hour or so, they eat pie and drank coffee (well, Steve doesn’t have coffee, which earned him some odd looks so Tony assumed he hadn’t told the fam about being knocked up yet—also probably the only reason he was allowed in the door). The laughter was genuine, though, it’s tinged with worry and sadness. 

 

Clara finally asked Tony all the questions that were churning in her mind and that’s how he found out that she wanted to go to MIT. She’s a smart kid and Tony enjoyed talking shop. Told her to apply for one of SI’s internships when she’s done college, even though he doesn’t have much direct control over that anymore. Her squeal made Tony wince. 

 

At some point he ended up holding Ben and he’s not sure how, but when he caught the look in Steve’s eyes while he watched Tony hold the kid he didn’t mind as much. When they left, everyone hugged him and it’s oddly not as uncomfortable as he would have expected.

 

Steve got to the car under his own steam, but fell asleep on the way back to the penthouse, head against the window and breath fogging up the glass. Stress, pregnancy and being too full of pie must have been a tiring combination because he didn’t wake up when Tony picked him up out of the passenger seat. It wasn’t until Tony was climbing the stairs to the bedroom that he stirred. 

 

“Why are you carrying me?” He mumbled into Tony’s shoulder. 

 

“Because you wouldn’t wake up,” Tony answered, setting his down to sit on the edge of the bed, and crouching in front of Steve to slip off his shoes and socks. 

 

“I can do that myself.” 

 

“And you already know I like taking care of you. Quit your bitching.” 

 

“I’m pregnant; I’m allowed to bitch.” 

 

The sound out of Tony’s mouth after that comment was somewhere between a cough and a laugh. He set Steve’s shoes aside and looked up at his tired smile. “That’s how it’s going to be, huh?” 

 

“Mhmm.” 

 

“I can deal with that.” Tony stood, helping Steve to his feet to het him out of his jeans and sweater. Wearing only boxers, Steve slid under the covers when Tony held them back. Tony stripped down to his own boxers and got in on the other side, pulling Steve into his arms. Steve clutched at him, releasing a shaky breath, and Tony combed his fingers through Steve’s hair. 

 

“He’s okay,” he said because he knew Steve was still worried about his friend. Tony felt him nod against his chest and kept up the gentle movement of his fingers until Steve’s breathing evened out. It’s a while before he finds sleep himself. 

 

* * *

 

Steve woke up alone the next morning. He stretched out across the bed, hearing his spine pop, then rolled over to bury his face in Tony’s pillow. It’s gone cold, but it still smells like him. Steve groans, though, because he knew where Tony was likely to be and could go get it right from the source. He’s going to blame the pregnancy for how much he really wants to press his nose to Tony’s neck and just inhale. His hand drifts to his tummy. Slow your roll there, peanut, he thinks. Hasn’t even been a month. 

 

He rolled out of bed to hit the bathroom before wandering into Tony’s closet to find something to wear and settled on a sweatshirt that hangs past his thighs and a pair of socks. Pausing at the door, Steve turned around and toke a pair of slippers off the shoe racks thinking about what the workshop had looked like last time he was there. Feet sufficiently protected, he headed downstairs to make coffee. 

 

And found Bruce in the kitchen doing the same thing. 

 

“Hey.” 

 

Bruce looked at Steve over his shoulder, eyes bleary, hair a mess. “Sorry, ran out downstairs. I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.” 

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Steve said, getting three mugs down from the cabinet. “I was gonna go entice that boyfriend of mine with caffeine to give whatever he’s working on a rest for at least a few minutes.” 

 

Bruce huffed a laugh. “You’re good at that. Getting him to come up for air.” His eyebrows went up a little, eyes dropping to Steve’s stomach significantly. “I assume everything went okay?” 

 

“As well as can be expected when you spring something like this on someone you’ve known for like two months.” His mouth twisted into a wry smile, but it changed into something wistful remember Tony last night with Bucky’s family— _ his _ family. Holding Ben in his lap while he talked to Clara, moving things out of the infant’s reach almost absentmindedly. 

 

_ I’m in. I’m all in.  _

 

_ Whatever you want to do, I’ll be right there with you.  _

 

Even in the midst of all this, the worry about Tony and the suit, Bucky—Tony managed to give Steve hope that everything would be okay. It was a strange feeling. Even with Bucky whom he loved like a brother, Steve hadn’t ever had an alpha make him feel this cared for; cared about. Nothing was perfect, because neither Steve nor Tony was perfect and their lives were crazy and hectic, but it was  _ their _ life and they would figure it out together. While the entire world was watching, apparently, because Steve still needed to get that press conference set up. 

 

He shook his head. He could think about that later. He tipped his head back to look at Bruce, who had a small smile on his face. “It’s going to be fine,” he said. And he really believed it. 

 

“Good,” Bruce said, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze. The coffeemaker beeped, hissing out one last stream of caffeinated goodness and Steve bit his lip while he poured some into all three mugs. He wasn’t sure if he should broach the subject or not. Bruce and he were friendly now, but were they that kind of friends? 

 

“I heard about Natalie—uh, Natasha,” he said, cautiously, grabbing the coffee creamer Tony stocked in the fridge because he knew Steve liked it. 

 

“Yeah.” That was all Bruce said, but his shoulders drooped, eyes fixed on the contents of his mug. 

 

Steve didn’t know the extent of Bruce and Natasha’s relationship, but he knew there had been something going on in the short time he’d been around. Steve had only seen them together once or twice, hadn’t even know who Bruce was then, but it was obvious to see they had cared for each other. And she had been lying to everyone. 

 

He doctored his coffee and cradled the mug in his hands, leaning against the counter. He knew Bruce and Tony were friends, but sometimes you needed another omega to talk to. If Bruce felt even half as crappy as Steve had when he woke up alone after his heat, he felt like shit. “Have you talked to her?” 

 

“Yeah,” he answered, lips twitching up into a smile that lacked humor. “Didn’t go so well. Uh, I should get going. Good luck with luring Tony out of his cave and thanks for the coffee. Sorry to bother you.” 

 

“You weren’t bothering me.” Bruce was in the elevator almost before the words were even out of Steve’s mouth. Steve let his eyes fall shut for a moment, but there was nothing he could do now. Bruce would talk when Bruce was ready. Or not. Steve put the creamer back in the fridge, picked up both mugs and headed downstairs. 

 

When Steve walked off the elevator into the workshop, Tony dragged one of those blue holograms or whatever they are that he used off to the side to close it. Steve gave him a look, but Tony just spin on his stool to face him and held out his hand. “Is that coffee? Please, tell me it’s coffee.” 

 

“It’s coffee,” he said, chuckling, transferring the mug to Tony. “How long have you been up?” 

 

Tony made a noncommittal noise, taking a sip from the mug. “I maybe slept for an hour,” he said after swallowing. 

 

“Jesus, Tony.” 

 

“It’s—” He cut himself off then sighed, setting the mug down on the table in front of him. “Well, it’s not fine, but I just couldn’t sleep. Too much on my mind. Maybe we can take a nap later or something.” 

 

“Naps are good. I love naps now.” He tried not to sound too annoyed by that. Not that he had anything against naps in general, but the fact that he felt like he needed them now _was_ annoying. 

 

Tony tucked his chin in, giving him a look that said  _ I really don’t understand how you’re feeling, but I’m going to try like hell to be supportive _ . “Come here.” 

 

Steve walked right into Tony’s open arms, standing in between his splayed thighs while Tony wrapped his arms around him. Steve was still holding his mug, but he just hooked that arm around Tony’s back, leaning into Tony’s neck. He breathed deep, felt tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying leave his body. 

 

“Feel better?” 

 

“Mhmm.” 

 

“I was reading some stuff while I was working. Scent helps. So does touch. You know, if you feel a little… I don’t know how to finish that sentence without sounding insulting so I’m going to not.” 

 

“Good idea,” Steve said, voice muffled by Tony’s shoulder. If he was feeling this needy now, what was he going to be like later? 

 

“I’m smart sometimes.” He couldn’t see it, but he could hear the smile in Tony’s voice. “And, hey, this has the added bonus of making me feel less on edge. Mutually beneficial.” 

 

Steve pulled back to look up at him. “You okay?” 

 

“Yeah, yeah. Just, being back there was tougher than I thought.” Steve didn’t need to ask where ‘there’ was. “And,” Tony continued, rolling his eyes and reaching out to type something in one of the screens imbedded in a nearby table before flicking up his hand.  Videos started playing, muted so he couldn’t hear what they were saying, from a few news channels. There was grainy footage of something flying through the air, contrail streaking behind it, before cutting to another video of a reporter in a flak jacket interviewing some villagers. “Apparently, the press doesn’t like Thanksgiving.” 

 

Steve looked from the video to Tony. “Was that you?” 

 

“Yup. Only upside is that they aren’t talking about us anymore, just my alter ego and an incident at a Best Buy in Idaho or something. I never really understood the Black Friday hype.” 

 

“Where’d the video come from?” 

 

“Foreign correspondent was at a base not far from Gulmira, as luck would have it. Plus, the smoke and explosions attracted the troops in the area who came to investigate. Kind of surprised the military let it get out, but I guess the reporter got it to their network and airing before they could lock it down and now covering it up would look fishy.” Tony waved the screen aside. He face was set in a frown. “I’m sure at some point they’ll blame it on a weather balloon or some kind of ballistics test. For now, the suit is some kind of drone the army is testing out according to the media. Which, is ridiculous. It was way too big to be a drone.” 

 

“Tony.” 

 

“What? Oh, sorry. I got a tad lost there for a sec.” He sighed, the movement of his chest lifting Steve a bit. “Did come up with something cool, though.” 

 

Tony let go and wheeled to a different workstation. He opened two new projections. One looked like the suit while the other looked like a… briefcase? He ambled closer. “What am I looking at?”

 

“This.” He pointed to the briefcase, did something with his hands and it unfolded. “Is a portable suit, doesn’t fly, not as good. And this one.” He touched the other and it rotated. “Upgrades some things from the Mark 3.” 

 

“The what?” 

 

“The suit. Mark 1, 2, 3 and so on. Briefcase is the 5. Mark 4 should be easier to get off, has a few upgrades to the weapons and flight systems. Already started building it, but then I came up with this one.” Another projection was pulled up. “Mark 6 is watertight, which could come in useful, increased power, shoulder mounted guns, high powered laser, uni-beam would be better…” 

 

Tony was talking a mile a minute and making Steve’s head spin. He sat down on another stool, sipping his coffee and trying to follow half of what Tony was saying. When Tony spun to face Steve he realized he zoned out a bit, but Tony didn’t seem to notice and Steve tuned back in. “... feel bad if I didn’t finish the 4 now that I started. I’ll finish it, but the 6 is probably the one I’ll use more often.” 

 

“Use for what?” Steve frowned. What else was Tony planning? His worry spiked all over again.

 

“I don’t know, actually. If something comes up.” 

 

“Tony…”

 

“I don't have anything in mind, if that’s what you’re worried about. But with SHIELD building their own, and since I threw out Rhodey’s name as a potential pilot or, you know, a mandatory requirement for my consultant services, I’d like to not be caught with my metal pants down, if you know what I mean.” 

 

“I don’t, actually.” Steve hadn’t met Rhodey yet, but he knew the alpha was Tony’s best friend from MIT and in the Air Force. He couldn’t remember if Tony had mentioned making the Rhodey stipulation to SHIELD or not. He wasn't allowed to drink enough coffee for his brain to fire on all cylinders now. That was the moment his stomach decided to make its hunger known. Tony’s mouth snapped shut, eyebrows rising slowly, as Steve’s cheeks heated. 

 

He slapped his thighs. “Okay, that’s enough of that. My omega is hungry and I probably am too, just haven’t realized it yet.” 

 

A funny feeling went through Steve’s chest at Tony calling him ‘my omega,’ but he just jumped down off the stool, leaning against Tony when he wrapped his arm around his shoulders to lead him to the elevator. Once they were inside Tony asked, “Do you want to eat here or go out somewhere?” 

 

Steve drank more of his coffee, contemplating. “I guess go out.” There were already pictures of the two of them circulating and Steve was going to schedule a press conference for early in the week anyway. What was the possibility of another picture going to do? He wasn’t about to hide away because they might get seen. 

 

“Sounds good. I didn’t feel like cooking anyway.” 

 

“I wouldn’t have let you cook,” Steve said looking up at Tony. 

 

“Harsh. Very harsh.” 

 

“Should we ask Pepper? Or Bruce?” Steve hadn’t seen Pepper since she walked into the penthouse while he and Tony were in the kitchen. He still felt weird, but Pepper was Tony’s friend and he didn’t want it to stay weird. 

 

“That’s sweet, but Pepper went to visit family, she won’t be back until Monday, and Bruce is kind of still wanted by several government and law enforcement agencies. We can bring him back something.” 

 

“ _ Bruce _ is?” Mild manner, more awkward than Steve, Bruce? He felt very protective all of a sudden and scowled up at Tony, not that he was mad at him. Just at the situation.“What the hell for?” 

 

“Down, Cujo. Did nobody tell you? Did I not tell you? I guess I forgot about that with everything that’s been going on since we started dating. Plus, Bruce has been fine since so I wasn’t sure it was a big deal.” Tony looked at him. “Have you really not noticed anything… different about ol’ Brucie Bear?” 

 

Steve thought about it. Maybe? He felt different around Bruce than he did other omegas, but nothing major. He shrugged. “Sort of? I don’t know.” 

 

“Okay, well.” The elevator doors opened and Tony led Steve out by the arms still around his shoulders, heading for the stairs to the bedroom. “You remember a few years back when there was an incident in Harlem?” 

 

“Yeah. Wasn’t it a gas main blowing?” 

 

“That’s what the US military would like people to believe, but nope. It was Bruce.” 

 

“Bruce blew something up?” 

 

“No, more like he smashed it.” 

 

“I don’t understand.” 

 

“Uh, when Bruce gets angry he turns into a monster.” 

 

“What does him having a temper have to do with anything?” 

 

“No, no. A literal monster. Big. Green. Likes to break stuff.” 

 

“Tony, you’re describing Shrek. I’m not making the connection here.” Steve followed Tony into the closet. 

 

“You’ve heard of Captain America, right?” 

 

“Yes,” he said the same way he’d say ‘duh.’ 

 

“Right.” Tony waved that last question away and said, “Well, a lot of experimentation has happened since the forties with people trying to replicate the serum. Bruce and his girlfriend slash science bestie were some of the people working on it. Except Bruce decided to test it out on himself and, needless to say, things went wrong.” 

 

Steve sat down on the chair in the closet, because Tony was the type of person who had a chair in his closet. “Bruce was trying to turn himself into Captain American?” That seemed ridiculous to him. Bruce was a scientist. Captain America had been a soldier or so the comics said.  

 

“That’s still debatable. I don’t know if that’s what was going through his head at the time. Him and Betty had been working on the serum for years and there was a lot of Gamma radiation involved.” Tony pulled a t-shirt over his head and shrugged. He took a hoodie off a hanger, this one unlike the one he’s had on last night was black, zip up and clearly designer. Tony raised his eyebrows at Steve’s bare legs. “You gonna get breakfast like that? I warn you, I might hurt someone if they stare at you too long while you’re wearing that.” 

 

Steve rolled his eyes, but stood to grab a pair of jeans he had stashed in Tony’s closet. His shoes were still put in the bedroom. He held his arms out at his sides. “Happy?” 

 

“Very.” Tony smiles at him and gave him a peck on the lips. “I like you in my clothes.” 

 

“You complained when I wore your cat shirt,” Steve reminded him. 

 

“Eh, don’t listen to me. I talk crap half the time.” He grabbed a pair of fancy sneakers and Steve followed behind him laughing when Tony headed for the bedroom. They both sat on the bed to put their shoes on and Tony picked his phone and wallet off the nightstand on his side. Steve took his phone off the one on his. Because that was how he thought of it. It was his side of the bed and his nightstand now. 

 

“How did Bruce any up here anyway?” 

 

“I met him a while back, we talked.” Tony’s hands went into his pockets as they descended the stairs. “And General Thunderbolt called me in when Bruce and the guy they mostered up on purpose like an idiot went on a rampage cause my dad was involved in the original serum.” 

 

“Seriously?” 

 

“Howard had his hands in a lot of pies.” It didn’t sound like a good or a bad thing the way Tony said it. Steve had noticed that when Tony’s dad came up, like he wasn’t sure how he felt about the man. Probably had something to do with having a father who said you were a disappointment your whole life. The doors to the elevator opened when they walked up and they got on. It headed for the parking garage without either of them needing to press a button. “But anyway, Bruce called me when he was hiding out from the authorities and I took him in. Didn’t think anyone knew where he was, but apparently SHIELD knows all.” 

 

Yeah, and now Bruce was heartbroken and apparels turned into a big green monster. Poor guy. Steve was glad he’d had somewhere to go, though. If you had to be on house arrest anywhere, Stark Tower was the place to do it. Steve and Tony were quiet while the elevator silently descended. 

 

Something had been bouncing around in Steve’s head since he found out about the pregnancy, he just wasn’t sure what to do about it or how to bring it up. And much the same way he’d delivered the news of the pregnancy to Tony, Steve found himself turning to Tony and blurting out, “I think I should quit.”

 

At the same time Tony turned to him and said, “I think you should move in.” 

 

They both stared at each other and in unison said, “What?”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So first of all, YES, in this AU Captain America did exist and Howard Stark was involved with Project Rebirth, but Cap was obvs not Steve. 
> 
> Second, sorry about the kind of cliffhangery ending to this chapter Again. I keep doing that don’t I? Oops. I swear it’s not on purpose. Everything will work out fine, I swear. I’m getting most of my dark ya-yas out on the Stucky fic I’m working on right now. 
> 
> Third, more about what happened with Bucky will be talked about when Steve eventually sees him after he’s stateside cause you know they’re gonna talk about it. But basically Bucky is a BAMF.
> 
> Lastly, I didn’t even think about the fact that I named Sara’s kid Ben like Peter Parker’s Uncle Ben until I re-read This chapter. It’s completely coincidental. That was just the first name that popped into my head. I put way more thought and planning into Bucky’s sister’s names than I did his BIL and nephew. Whoops. 
> 
> I love you all for your amazing comments more than I can say! Seriously thank you so much.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, how tf is this fic almost 80k words? HOW!? O_O This chapter alone is 8k. What. 
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is a bit choppy, but I hope it doesn’t _read_ choppy. I’m trying to get this closer to the Bringing All This Shit Together™️ point. 
> 
> So I hope you enjoy this! ❤️ I love you all for your amazing comments and kudos always make me smile when I see them in mah inbox. 
> 
> Tumblr: Dyslexicsquirrel

They were still talking about it when they got down to the car. Steve curled up in the toast leather passenger seat and to face Tony. 

 

“I do not accept your resignation. Absolutely not. First of all, Pepper would kill me for losing another assistant. And second of all, how am I going to find someone else who doesn’t annoy me?”

 

“You didn’t even want an assistant, Tony,” Steve said in exasperation. He was pretty sure he said it already on the way down. “I heard you tell Pepper the day I got hired. Also, you ignored me the first two weeks I was here and you were doing just fine.” 

 

“I didn’t ignore you because I didn’t want an assistant and you know it. And I was only fine because I wasn’t work.” Tony paused, chagrined when he said, “Well, on anything company related, at least.” He took Steve’s hand. “Where is this coming from?” 

 

He sighed, let his head drop against the window behind him before looking back at Tony. “I feel bad about my boyfriend paying me.” 

 

“It’s not like the money is coming out of my bank bank account. SI pays you.” 

 

“You know what I mean. It’s your company and I work here. Now, we’re dating and it feels just feels weird. Plus, with the press conference coming up, which I’m scheduling as soon as I can, by the way—”

 

“Is the press conference what’s bothering you? Telling everyone?” Tony was still holding his hand, but there was a guarded look to his eyes now. 

 

“No. Yes, but not because I don’t want people to know. It’s the dating my boss and being pregnant and we haven’t even know each other that long and…” He took a deep breath. “I’m kind of freaking out.”

 

“You’re allowed to freak out. It’s a lot, I know.  _ I’m  _ a lot.” 

 

“Tony, it’s not—”

 

“No, no, let me finish. The kind of life I live isn’t exactly something the average person expects to have. I get that, don’t think I don’t. I grew up in the public eye, but you didn’t. You’re not used to people dissecting every little thing you do for their own amusement. You are allowed to freak out, but don’t make any rash decisions.” Tony’s smile was wry. “Hypothetical of me, I know. I’m the king of rash decision making. But, kitten, if you quit who is going to schedule my press conferences when those rash decisions come back to bite me in the ass?” 

 

“Oh please, I think you’d be fine,” Steve said, laughing. Tony had a point. Was he considering this just because of what other people would say? Did he really care? And his reasons for needing this job hadn’t changed—he still had his mom’s medical bills and other stuff to pay off. And now that he was pregnant, finding a job would be harder. 

 

“Maybe, I would.” Tony spike the words quietly, looking at Steve intently. He brought the hand he held to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of Steve’s hand. “But I’ve gotten used to having you around all the time. Which is why I want you to move in.” 

 

“Tony…” He leaned over the console. He meant the kiss to be quick, but by the time he sat back in his seat both of them were breathless and Steve’s hair was a mess. “I’ll think about it, okay? And never mind about me quitting for now.” 

 

Tony smiled like he’d won and maybe he had. “What are you in the mood for?” Tony asked, putting on a pair of sunglasses.

 

“IHOP?” 

 

“You’re killing me,” Tony groaned. But he had JARVIS find the closest IHOP and they ate breakfast with Tony wearing a ball cap low over his head, both of them sitting on the same side of the booth. 

 

* * *

 

On Sunday, Tony was taking the finished Mark 4 out for a spin when Rhodey called. “Hey there, Papa Bear. What’s up?” 

 

There was silence on the other end of the line and then Rhodey asked, “What’s that noise?” 

 

“Driving with the top down.” 

 

“In November? In New York?” 

 

Tony winced, banking around a building. He rolled his eyes. Definitely not one of his best lies. “Oh, you know me. I don’t do anything the normal way.” 

 

“Right.” Rhodey sounded incredulous, but he didn’t say anything else about it. Instead he asked, “So, you want to tell me why I got a call from SHIELD about some top secret flight test?” 

 

“Why would I know anything about that?” 

 

“Come on, man. Who else do I know with a connection to SHIELD?” 

 

“You work for the military. I’m sure you know lots of people.” 

 

“Tones.” 

 

“How’s your family? Did Nanna make the sweet potatoes? You back in DC, yet?” The silence that met him was full of censure and Tony could picture the face his best friend was making. “Alright, alright. I might have brought your name up.” 

 

Tony landed on top of a nearby building to cut down on the noise, the repulsors melting the snow around him. Rhodey sighed. “Is this something I should take seriously?” 

 

Tony imagines SHIELD having full control of the suit. They’d build it whether he was involved or not, he wasn’t deluded enough to think it would take happen. And if Hammer was involved? He shuddered. Tony knew the power involved better than anyone. Had seen it. Had— _ was  _ wielding it. The implications of what could be done with someone untrustworthy in the driver’s seat? “Yeah, Rhodey,” Tony told him. “Yeah, you should. Just hear them out.” 

 

“Alright, Tones.” He could imagine Rhodey shaking his head, but he was agreeing because Tony said he should. He had the best best friend ever. “And, yes, Nanna did make the sweet potatoes. She asked where you were, why you don’t come to visit anymore. I told her it was because you were too famous now to slum it.” 

 

“Why would you do that? I don’t want her mad at me,” he said in outrage, firing the repulsors to fly back to the tower. He promised Steve he’d be back for lunch and since he was still trying to convince Steve to move in, he wasn’t going to break that promise. 

 

“You’d better come for Christmas then.” 

 

“I’ll talk to Steve about it.” 

 

“Oh, it’s like that now? When did that happen?” 

 

“It is. It’s serious,” he said, then pulled a face and swerved to avoid some pigeons. “Uh, there is something I should probably tell you about.” 

 

Rhodey took it better than Tony expected. “Your kid better call me Uncle Rhodey or we’re gonna have a problem,” was the only thing he said besides ‘congrats.’ Rhodey had to get on a plane back to DC, so they said goodbye just as the tower came into view. He still needed to tell Pepper, but he’d worry about that later. 

 

* * *

 

Tuesday night, while they were sitting in bed, Tony was going through some emails Steve marked for him to read, while Steve read the paper next to him. He didn’t get why he’d bother with physical papers when everything was online, but Steve liked actual papers so now they were in his penthouse. He thought it was kind of funny that Steve hadn’t agreed to move in yet, but hadn’t gone home for longer than to pick some stuff up since… when had it been? Before Thanksgiving. Well before Thanksgiving. Had it been right before Steve broke the news of the pregnancy? Tony didn’t want to push it too much and make him go back to his apartment just because Steve was stubborn. Was it wrong that he kind of hoped Steve would just accidentally move all his stuff into the penthouse without realizing it and then just decide to stay forever? 

 

“Tony?” 

 

“Hm?” 

 

“Did you stop a bank robbery yesterday?” 

 

Tony looked up from his tablet with his eyebrows raised. Steve was holding up a page of the paper to show him and sure enough there was a picture of him, or him in the suit—oh crap. “Uh, maybe?” 

 

Steve was unimpressed by his vacillating. He pointed at the picture. “Unless someone stole the suit, that is clearly you.” 

 

“Well, okay, so, here’s what happened.” Tony put the tablet down and turned more to face Steve. “I was out on a test run with the Mark 6, which I finished. I don’t know if I told you that. I couldn’t sleep and then before I knew it, it was done. But the cops were pinned down. I just lent them a hand. It’s not a big deal.” 

 

“They gave you a name,” Steve said.

 

“What?” Tony took the paper and skimmed the article. But sure enough the headline read ‘Who is the Iron Man?’ He made a noise, somewhere between a huff and a hmm. “Okay, that’s not… bad. But it’s also not accurate. The suit’s not made of iron.” 

 

Steve pulled the paper out of his hands. “That’s not the point, Tony!” 

 

“But, kitten, it’s a gold titanium alloy.”

 

“I know. You’ve told me.”

 

He leaves back on one arm.”I guess Gold Titanium Alloy Man doesn’t have as good of a ring.” 

 

Steve groaned. “Still not the point. People know about you. Didn’t you want to keep the suit under wraps for a while longer?” 

 

“Can’t do anything about it now. But it doesn’t really matter. It’s not like anyone except SHIELD know it’s  _ me _ .” He picked up his tablet again and settled back against the headboard, but paused. “By the way, remind me to call Fury back. I kind of left him on hold for like four hours.” 

 

* * *

 

The press conference was set up for Wednesday afternoon in the lobby of Stark Tower. Steve was making sure everything was in place. The platform where he and Tony were going to be sitting was done, the chairs for all the reporters, the lights, the area for the camera crews and photographers to set up. Security was ready with the list of reporters and their news outlets to check press passes. He had bottles of water on the table on the platform just in case. And he didn’t even think he would need to hide a trash can under the table because he hadn’t felt like throwing up for a few hours now. Had it been nerves, the pregnancy, or a combination or both? Could you get morning sickness this soon? The books Tony had asked JARVIS to order had shown up on Monday, but Steve hadn’t opened them yet. He was just trying to breath right now. 

 

The whole Pepper thing had him on edge, too. Tony mentioned over lunch yesterday about telling Pepper, but left the ball in his court about how and when to do it. Now he was just nervous every time he saw her. Pepper had smiled at him when she saw him this morning. In fact, she’d smiled at him Monday and Tuesday when she saw him, too. Had even said hello when he walked into the conference room behind Tony yesterday. He just didn’t know how to talk to her anymore. 

 

“Hey, kitten,” he heard and turned to see Tony walking toward him, one hand in his pocket, taking his sunglasses off, smiling at him, and Steve felt his body relaxing. They didn’t hug kiss, because Steve had made his concession to. Or quitting that work was work, but having Tony close was enough to have the tension in his shoulders fade away. 

 

“Hi, Tony.” Steve found himself smiling up at him, but he shook himself. “How did it go?” 

 

The look on Tony’s face said it all. This was the fourth therapist he’d met with since Monday and he’d hated all of them. Tony pulled his tablet away from his chest and crossed another name off the list. “You have a few more appointments set up the rest of the week. You’ll find someone eventually.” 

 

“Sorry,” Tony said softly, rubbing at his eyes with the hand still holding his sunglasses.

 

“Hey.” Steve put a hand on his arm. Just because he wanted to remain professional during working hours didn’t mean he couldn’t touch Tony at all and he hated seeing him so frustrated. “You can’t force it.” 

 

Tony’s mouth twisted, but he nodded. He turned his head to look around the lobby, waving a hand at the set up. “How’s everything here?” 

 

Steve drew in a deep breath and blew it out. “Good. Everything is set up.” 

 

“Everything will be fine, kitten.” 

 

God, Steve hoped so. 

 

* * *

 

Everything was not fine. The lights were too bright and there were flashes going off so he kept squinting. Of course, Tony had put his sunglasses back on and Steve was starting to suspect now that they weren’t just a fashion statement. He and Tony had only been sitting up here for five minutes, but he’d missed all the questions after Tony announced they were dating. If it wasn’t for Tony holding his hand under the table, Steve was afraid he might have run away. 

 

He just heard snippets of the questions. The reporters were all talking over each other, clamoring to be heard. How did Tony do stuff like this all the time? It took what felt like hours, but was probably only ten minutes before the ringing in his ears died down enough for him to focus. 

 

“Yeah, you in the tweed,” Tony said, pointing to a balding man with glasses, before calmly taking a sip of water. 

 

“Ed Graham, New York Times. What does Ms. Potts think of your new relationship?” 

 

“You’ll have to ask her that question, Ed.” 

 

“Can I ask a follow up, Mr.Stark?” 

 

“Sure. Anything for the New York Times.” 

 

“Can we take her not being here as a hint as to her feelings?” 

 

“Ed,” Tony said, somehow managing to be condescending and charming at the same time. “Pepper is a little busy running a multi-billion dollar corporation. Uh, you, blond hair with the pearls.” 

 

“Christine Everhart, Vanity Fair. Is it true that Mr. Rogers is your new assistant?” 

 

“He is,” Tony said, an edge to his voice that put Steve on alert. He looked over at Tony noting the tension around his mouth and squeezed his hand. 

 

“One more question, if you don’t mind. And this one's for you, Mr. Rogers.” 

 

Steve’s head whipped around getting his first good look at her, though he had to squint harder through the lights. She was pretty, omega, but she did not look like a nice woman. There was shrewdness in her eyes. “Uh, sure.” 

 

“Did you feel coerced in any way by Mr. Stark?” 

 

“Excuse me?” He sat up straighter, a furrow forming between his brows. Tony coughed and Steve looked at him, but he looked the same he had a few moments ago. The room had gone silent except for the sound of cameras going off. 

 

“Well, I was just wondering. He seems to have a habit of dating his assistants. Is it a requirement of the job?” 

 

“Watch it,” Tony said sounding more angry than Steve had ever heard him. He leaned over to try and say something, anything, to calm him down.  But the reposted kept talking and now there was a wave of murmured pieces rising up around them. 

 

“First Ms. Potts, who you made CEO when your relationship ended—”

 

“She took over as CEO while we were still together and our dating had nothing to do with it,” Tony corrected, but Ma. Everhart picked back up where she’d been cut off. 

 

“And now you’re dating another assistant. You’re an alpha, Mr. Stark, with a lot of power.” The implication was clear and Steve didn’t like it. That Becca he was an omega he was somehow being taken advantage of. Why would another omega do that? As a gender, they’d had to fight for everything they have now and she was standing in a room full of reporters, most of whom were alphas, and acting like they needed to be protected? He opened his mouth to tell, probably, tell her tonfuck off to be honest, but Tony pushes up from his chair, looking thunderous, a quiet growl vibrating his chest that Steve didn’t think anyone else could hear, but more than a few people took a step back. Steve stood, too, because he’d be damned if he remained seated while his alpha towered over him, having people think he was cowed. 

 

“I don’t like what you’re implying. It’s insulting, not just to me, but most of all to Pepper and Steve. Yes, Pepper and I dated while she was working for me, but we were friends first. It didn’t work out, but it had nothing to do with why she has the position in Stark Industries that she does now. And my relationship with Steve has nothing to do with any of my past relationships.” He braced himself against the table with the hand that wasn’t still clutching Steve’s. “This is the news, what was it? Ms. Everhart? This is the definition of click bait if you print it and I doubt Vanity Fare would want anything to do with it. Now, you want news? I’ll give you news.” 

 

Steve was staring up at Tony with wide eyes. He didn’t know what Tony was about to say, but it probably wasn’t good. The room went quiet again, flash bulbs going off, a few camera men trying to get closer to the platform. Tony stood up straight and took off his glasses, sweeping the room with his eyes. “I… am Iron Man. Take that and print it.” 

 

The room exploded in noise, Steve’s jaw dropped and Tony looked like he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell. To get the attention off whatever bullshit story that Vanity Fair reporter had been trying to weave. Tony started heading for the stairs leading off the platform and Steve had no choice but to follow since Tony still had hold of his hand. Over his shoulder Tony said, “This press conference is over. Get the hell out of my building.” 

 

* * *

 

Tony got on the elevator and went straight up to the penthouse. Steve was worryingly quiet. He hadn’t let go of Tony’s hand the entire time they were in the elevator, though. It felt like the only thing keeping him in place. The nerve of that fucking woman. He wouldn’t have had a problem if they came for him, but to try and drag Steve’s and Pepper’s names into the mud? Screw that. 

 

His phone started ringing, but when he pulled it out of his pocket and saw that it was Fury, he ignored it. Put it on silent because he knew Fury was too stubborn to give up. Also, more than likely about getting out on hold. Tony would have to talk to him eventually, but now was not eventually. 

 

Tony was the one who let go of Steve’s hand once they were in the penthouse, but only so he could sit down on the couch. Drop down into it is more accurate. “That could have gone better.” 

 

“You think?” Steve didn’t sound angry or even upset. Just matter of fact. He sits down next to Tony, an unreadable expression on his face as he stares off into nothing. At least, Tony can’t figure out what it means. He curled his fingers around Steve’s where they rested on the couch cushion between them. 

 

“Sir, Ms. Potts is on her way up.” 

 

“Oh, this can’t be good.” 

 

Pepper walked off the elevator with her head down, looking at the tablet in her hand, brow furrowed. “Tony, what is this I’m hearing about some kind of emergency? Jen pulled me out of a meeting.” She stopped at the edge of the sunken living room, and looked up at him. “Did something happen at the press conference?” 

 

“Did it,” he said under his breath and Pepper frowned. Steve still wasn’t really talking and now he looked uncomfortable. This was just great. The first time they were together as a couple publicly and Tony snapped and growled before storming off and told the entire world that he was the guy flying around in a suit of armor stoping bank robbers? And now Tony’s ex-girlfriend slash coworker slash friend was here.Only thing that could make it better was is Bruce turned green and everyone knew he’d been harboring a fugitive. “It kind of went off the rails. Uh, there is something I probably should have told you about—”

 

“Oh, God,” Pepper said, cutting him off, eyes once more on her tablet. “Tony, what the hell?”

 

“Gonna need to be more specific, Pepp.” 

 

“JARVIS, could you pull up what’s on my tablet?” 

 

“Of course, Ms. Potts.” The tv on the wall turns on, showing live feed from CNN, news anchors around the table, a few phoning in from somewhere else. A big ‘Tony Stark is Iron Man?” across the top of the screen. All of this just for him? He’s touched. 

 

Who didn’t want Anderson Cooper, Wolf Blitzer and a bunch of other people whose names he could never remember dragging out everything he’d ever done wrong and asking if he thought he was some kind of hero now? Okay that was mostly Wolf, Anderson was too nice for that (Tony had been interviewed by him a couple times, including when he came back from Afghanistan), but Tony never claimed to be a hero, thanks very much. 

 

At least besides the footage of Tony making his announcement and leaving the stage, there’s nothing about Steve and even the footage that shows him, he’s half cut off by someone zooming in on Tony’s furious face. He’s not hopeful enough to think that their relationship won’t pop up later, that hadn’t been the point of his revaluation. Not that he had put any thought into it beyond getting that woman to  _ stop talking.  _

 

“What is—what’s going on? What is this Iron Man they’re talking about? Why did you say it’s you? What happened?” Pepper was verging on all out yelling (guess she was behind on the news—The Bugle had even picked up his fly by support to NewYork’s finest—and he knew that because he had JARVIS monitoring the news outlets now). Steve had his free hand over his face. You’ve made a mess of your life now, haven’t you, Stark, he thought. 

 

He stood and went to the bottom of the stairs where Pepper was standing. “Okay, in my defense—” 

 

“You have never lost it in front of the press before,” Pepper interrupted. 

 

“That woman was trying to make me sound like some kind of alpha asshole who preys on helpless omegas. Like you and Steve can’t make your own decisions,” he scoffed. 

 

“I appreciate you trying to protect me. That’s nice, Tony, but it’s hardly the first time a reporter has insulted me. Or you for that matter. And it’s awful that someone tried to do that to Steve, but don’t tell me there isn’t more going on than that. I know you.” Her expression softened a fraction, but underneath was the hurt. The hurt that had always been there since they broke up that he never wanted to admit was there until now. 

 

He felt a hand on his arm and looked over to find Steve standing next to him. “Just show her.” 

 

“Show—Oh.” The suits.

 

Steve shrugged. “I wouldn’t have believed it without seeing it.” 

 

“Right.” Hadn’t he just been about to tell her anyway? Why was this any different. _Because you’ve been keeping it from her._ _Because you started this while you were together and never trusted her with it. Because she’s your friend and you never wanted to hurt her but you did._ He started up the steps, but Steve’s voice stopped him. 

 

“Can I talk to you first, Ms. Potts?” Tony and Pepper were both staring at him now. Steve looked nervous, but determined. His eyes cut to Tony then back to Pepper. “Alone.” 

 

Ah. He was going to tell her about the baby. Maybe it was better that way. Tony seemed to just make a mess of things with her lately. He leaned over to press a kiss to Steve’s forehead and finished climbing the steps. When he was even with Pepper, eye to eye with her in her heels, he squeezed her hand. “I’ll be in the workshop.” 

 

He saw Pepper and Steve sit on the couch before the elevator doors closed. 

 

* * *

 

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Steve said, but Pepper waved a hand, a weary smile curving her lips, as she headed for the couch. 

 

“I’m not mad about you and Tony, if that’s what you’re worried about.” She sank down onto the cushion and Steve sat next to her because the world still felt a bit like it was spinning. “If we were going to work long term, then we would have.” 

 

“Doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.” 

 

“No, I guess not.” She laid her tablet down on her lap and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Tony is my friend, always will be. You don’t need to worry…” She trailed off, seemed to think better of her words and said instead, “I just want him to be happy. I just want him to be okay.” 

 

They lapsed into silence after that. Steve was looking down at his hands where they sat in his lap. This was a lot harder than he thought it would be and he hadn’t thought it would be a walk in the park. Pepper laying a hand over one of his made him jump. When he looked up she said, “He told me about trying to find a therapist.” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“I had a feeling when I met you that you would be good for him. Maybe not like the,” she said with a chuckle. “But it’s not a bad thing. I want you to know that.” 

 

“I, uh. Thank you.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “That wasn’t what I wanted to tell you, Ms. Potts.” 

 

“Pepper, please.” 

 

“Pepper.” Steve places his other hand on top of hers, forced himself to hold eye contact. “I’m pregnant. Tony left it up to me when I wanted to tell you,” he rushed at add wanting to make it clear that Tony hadn’t been hiding this from her. “We just found out. It wasn’t planned.” 

 

“Oh. That’s—congratulations.” She looked surprised, yes. But not heart broken or devastated, which had been his biggest fear. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she squeezed his hand and asked, “How far along are you?” 

 

“About a month.” He laughed but it didn’t hold much humor. “You’re the first person I’ve told besides Tony.” He didn’t mention that Bruce knew. Bruce has done the test. It didn’t really count. 

 

“How’d he take it?” She asked sounding half scared, like she thought he might have stuck his foot in his mouth. Not an unjust fear when you knew Tony and Pepper did. 

 

“He fell off a chair.” That time when he laughed it was genuine humor and Pepper joined him. “But he was sweet after. Had JARVIS order me a bunch of baby books I haven’t had the nerve to look at yet.” 

 

Pepper hmm-ed. “That sounds like Tony. He’ll buy you things he thinks you need even if you don’t want them yet. Or ever. Don’t be surprised if an entire nursery’s worth of furniture just randomly shows up in a few months.” 

 

“Oh, God,” he groaned. 

 

“One of my cousin’s had a baby. I showed him the list from the registry and told him to pick out one thing that we could get her. He ordered everything that was left,” she told him wryly. 

 

“I can believe that.” He could foresee many arguments about things their kid didn’t need and it was kind of scary how easy it was to picture a future where he and Tony were together and raising their kid together. 

 

“It’s going to be fine,” Pepper said. “And listen, I’m going to be going to California for a while to check on the west coast operations, but I don’t want you to think it has anything to do with you or you and Tony together. He’s not my favorite person right now, but it’s not because of that.” 

 

They both headed for the elevator and got on, but when the doors opened up to the workshop, Steve didn’t follow Pepper off. “I’m going to head to the lobby and make sure the clean up is going okay.” 

 

Pepper’s knowing look told him she knew the real reason he was hanging back. She and Tony had some air to clear and it was best done without him in the room. 

 

* * *

 

Pepper showed up not long after Tony left the penthouse, alone. Tony turned away from the windows he had been staring out, watching her as she looked around. He had never kept her out of the workshop, but he had locked things out of sight. It was all in plain view now: the suits lined up in the wall units, the schematic projections, the monitors, all the things he had been tweaking the last few nights spread across one of the stainless steel tables. 

 

“Is this what you were doing all the times you couldn’t sleep?” 

 

“Yup.” Tony put his hands in his pockets. 

 

Pepper ran a danger down the chest plate of the Mark 2. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“You were already so worried. You and Rhodey. I never told him either.” You already hated the reactor, he thought, but didn’t say. He hadn’t told anyone how he got out of that cave, except for Steve but that came later. 

 

“I was worried because you wouldn’t talk to me. You wouldn’t talk to anyone.” She shook her head, ponytail swishing against her back. 

 

“I didn’t know how, Pep.”  _ I just wanted to forget and you wouldn’t let me.  _ He felt horrible for that thought. It wasn’t fair to her and everything they had shared. She had been trying to help. She was always trying to help even when he was an asshole and wouldn’t accept it. 

 

“Okay,” she said after clearing her throat. Finally she turned to face him. “I’ll get the PR team on this. Let Steve know to lean on them; it’s what they get paid for. If he doesn’t know how to deal with a request for a comment, send it their way.” 

 

“I will.” 

 

Her gaze turned to the suits again. After an interminable length of silence (for Tony), she blew out a long breath and he felt his shoulders relax. Pepper didn’t hold onto grudges, but that didn’t mean she always forgave. Tony wouldn’t have blamed her if she hadn’t in this case. When she looked back at him it was with a half smile. “I hear congratulations are in order.” 

 

“Don’t congratulate me yet. Still a chance I could mess this up.” 

 

Pepper’s heels clicked against the floor and then her arms were around him. He leaned into the big, one arm curled around her waist, because he would always value her support, but he could feel the difference now. The closure they had never really gotten before. 

 

“You’ll be fine,” Pepper said as she pulled away. “I don’t think Steve would let you mess it up.”

 

The sound of his laugh was sudden, ending as quickly as it started. “I hope you’re right.” Because I think I’m in love with him, he tacked on in his head. 

 

“I told you I had a feeling about him.” He eyes were melancholy, but she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I told Steve already, but I’ll be heading out to California for a while.” 

 

“Pep—” 

 

She held up and hand and cut him off. “I’m not trying to get away. I haven’t been out there since becoming CEO and I think it’s time. There are also some meeting that will be easier to schedule if I’m on the west coast.” 

 

“If you’re sure.” 

 

“Of course I am,” she said on her way to the elevator. She gave a pointed look to the suits. “Just don’t make any fires that are too big while I’m gone?” 

 

“Have a little faith in me, Pepper.” But he didn’t tell her about Gulmira. There would be time for that later. “Take Happy with you,” he told her in penance for that and winced after the doors closed. 

 

“Sir.”

 

“Yeah, J?” 

 

“Director Fury has called multiple times since the press conference, sir.” 

 

He groaned. “Get him on the line.” 

 

* * *

 

Steve stopped in at HR on his way down to the lobby. He really had wanted to check to make sure everything was going smoothly. They’d had to rent some of the equipment and he didn’t want it getting damaged. But he also felt bad about telling Pepper about the baby when Darcy didn’t know. Of course, he felt bad for not telling the Barnes on Thanksgiving still even though he’d had valid reasons. The biggest being that letting Bucky’s family know before he did when there was the chance of seeing him sooner rather than later just felt wrong. He didn’t have that excuse with Darcy. 

 

She looked up from her desk with a bright smile when he knocked on the door. “What’s up? How was your Thanksgiving? How are things with the man?” She dropped her voice on the last part, leaning across her desk and wiggling her eyebrows. Steve shut the door behind him and sat down heavily in the chair across from her desk. She made a face. “Not good?” 

 

“Nah, things with Tony are fine, but… did you not see the press conference earlier?” 

 

“Thought I’d watch it later. We have some consultants coming in to work on some projects and I got stuck with them.” 

 

“Prepare yourself. It was interesting,” he muttered. Understatement of the year. 

 

“Good interesting or bad interesting?” 

 

“Interesting interesting.” 

 

“Well, now you’re just making me curious.” She reached down to grad her purse off the floor and started digging around for what he assumed was her phone since she had a habit of losing it in what he’d dubbed her Mary Poppins bag. 

 

“Wait, I have something else to tell you about first.”

 

She looked up from her purse and pushed her glasses up her nose. “Yeah?” 

 

“So, Tony and I…”

 

“Yeah,” she dragged the word out, brows slowly rising. 

 

“Well, we, uh…” Why was this so damn difficult? Maybe because you never expected to be pregnant under these circumstances, his brain offered. Or because there was still a stigma around pregnant omega who were single. But Darcy was his friend and he didn’t think she’d care about something like that.  _ Because you thought when you got pregnant that you’d be having a baby with someone who loves you?  _ Tony had said he was ‘all in’, but he hadn’t said anything about love. Neither have you, his brain was helpful enough to remind him. He told it to shut up. 

 

“Ohmygod, are you getting married?” 

 

“No! I’m pregnant.”

 

“But you’re not getting married?” 

 

“Not right—we haven’t talked about it,” he sputtered. Talking about babies and marriage all at the same time was making him a little light headed. He needed to make an appointment with his omega doc because this low iron thing was getting to him. 

 

“Huh.” 

 

“What ‘huh’?”

 

“Nothing, I was just thinking I’d get to be your maid of honor,” she said, sounding disappointed. 

 

“My best friend might fight you for that.” Though he guessed, really, if he were getting married—which he was not thinking about happening anytime soon—Bucky would probably be walking him down the aisle. He didn’t have anyone else to give him away, if he even wanted to do that tradition. “Oh jeez, I didn’t even tell you about Bucky!” 

 

He was seriously horrible at this having-friends-thing. He told her about Thanksgiving, leaving out the Iron Man bits (he had to snort to himself about the name), and finished with, “So, they’re sending him to Walter Reed to recuperate.”

 

“Dude,” Darcy said, eyes wide. “Your life is like a freaking soap opera.” 

 

He couldn’t argue with her there. 

 

* * *

 

Steve did even up moving in a few weeks later, but it wasn’t for a reason Tony could have foreseen. He had insisted on going back to his apartment because he realized he hadn’t been there in a while. Tony looked at him with wide eyes and said, “Really? Hadn’t noticed.” 

 

Steve let Tony drop him off before he went to interview another therapist (that was how he liked to think of it), but told him not to worry about picking him up. Tony hadn’t liked it, but did it anyway and watching him walk around the corner of the house after Steve insisted Tony didn’t need to walk him to the door. He hadn’t like that either, but he did it. And if his hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter while he drove away, no one could blame him. The human race might have advanced, but alphas were given a little leeway in the Overbearing department when their omegas were pregnant. And he was still dealing with imprinting urges that told him to not to let Steve out of his sight. It was one thing when they were in the same building, but he had no control out here. 

 

But when his phone started playing Baby Got Back, Tony frowned. “Hit accept on that, would you, J.” 

 

“Of course, Sir. Call active.” 

 

“Hey, kitten.”

 

“Can you come back?” He couldn’t put his finger on why Steve’s voice sounded odd, but he might have swung an illegal u-turn because if Steve was asking him to come back he was getting there as fast as possible. Hell, if he could have sent the suit to go find out what was wrong he would have done that. 

 

Huh, that was an idea. Remote activation would be good. But back burner that for the time being. “What happened?” 

 

“My apartment flooded. My landlord didn’t call me because I forgot to give them my new number, but now there’s water damage everywhere and I’m afraid to go inside cause what if there’s mold or something? It would already be bad for my asthma, but then I googled the effects it can have on pregnancy. I’m trying to stay calm but it really isn’t working.” 

 

“Okay. Just breathe for me, kitten. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” One of the traffic lights turned yellow and he breezed through it, but he didn’t want to bother with red lights. “JARVIS, get me greens all the way. Safely, though. I don’t want to cause any accidents.” 

 

He heard Steve huff over the car’s speakers. “Are you having JARVIS mess with the traffic lights?” 

 

“If I say yes, will that get me in trouble?” 

 

“Any other day it might.” He  laughed a little and that was so much better than possibly hyperventilating. “But I think I’m getting used to this.” 

 

“What’s that?” 

 

“The way you do things to help me even if it might get you in trouble. Usually I hate those white knight types, but for some reason with you it’s different.” 

 

“That’s cause I’m not a white knight,” Tony said, turning onto Steve’s street. 

 

“You’re not?” Steve still sounded amused and when Tony got closer to the he could see Steve standing in the driveway, the duffle he’d taken with him at his feet. 

 

“Nah.” Pulling to a stop, he looked at Steve through the window. His cheeks were pink and he was smiling softly as he shoulder his bag. He hadn’t hung up yet and before he opened the door Tony said, “White’s never been my color.” 

 

Steve’s laugh echoed in surround sound, coming through the speakers and through the open door. Steve ended the call once he was inside, bag between his feet. “You’re right. Red and gold is more your thing, Iron Man.” 

 

Tony groaned. “I’m never going to hear the end of that, am I?” 

 

“I don’t think you want to.” 

 

“You’re getting to know me a little too well there. I’ll have to watch out.” He turned his head against the headrest to look at Steve and took his hand. “Move in with me.” 

 

Steve looked conflicted, but he didn’t say no right away. That was definite progress and Tony was going to keep chipping away at it. “The landlord is amazing and it’s a very short commute.” 

 

Steve opened his mouth then closed it, sighing before he asked, “Isn’t it too soon?” 

 

“I don’t think it is.” He shrugged. Decided to take a gamble. He liked his odds. “Kitten, you’ve practically been living with me for the last couple weeks anyway.” 

 

“But I still had my own place, it was different.” 

 

“Okay, well, I have three guest rooms in the penthouse and if that’s still not enough there are a bunch of empty apartments in the tower. Most of which are empty.” Steve still looked unsure. “What’s really the problem?” 

 

He looked out the window, still holding Tony’s hand. “I’ve never living with anyone except my mom,” he finally said, in a quiet voice that squeezed around his heart like a vice. He forgot sometimes that Steve was only twenty-four. 

 

“Hey,” Tony said just as quietly, waiting until Steve was looking at him again. He cupped Steve’s cheek in his free hand and leaned over to kiss him. A quick press of his lips against Steve’s before pulling back. “Besides my parents, who I didn’t see much between boarding school and going to college so young, I’ve only ever lived with Pepper. And my college roommates, but let’s not talk about them. I like to pretend they never existed.” Steve’s laugh was silent, but Tony knew he what it was by how his chest moved. “It would be a learning curve for both of us. You promise not to get mad at me for leaving my socks on the floor and I promise not to get mad when you use the last of my shampoo.” 

 

“That was one time!” Steve honest to god poured and Tony couldn’t not kiss him even when they both laughed, making it more like they were pressing their teeth together. When they separated, Steve said, “And you don’t leave your socks on the floor.” 

 

“What other ringing endorsement do you need than a alpha who doesn’t leave their socks on the floor and lets you use the last of their organic fig and vanilla shampoo without complaining?” He realized what he said, only after he said it and it was too late to take it back. He’d called Steve his omega a few times out loud, but hadn’t ever referred to himself as Steve’s alpha or even implied it. It seemed too possessive a move, something that might scare Steve away if he was already balling at moving in this soon. To cover up it up he said, “I ordered more by the way. They should be here—what’s the tracking say, J?” 

 

“The most up to date information had it arriving at the tower by six, sir,” JARVIS’s smooth British accent filled the car. 

 

“See? We already have shampoo.” 

 

“Are you sure? You’re really okay with it?” 

 

God, yes. He had never been more okay with something in his life. The idea of Steve in the penthouse, his scent everywhere, waking up next to him every morning, going to sleep in the same bed every night was sounding like the best thing ever. And a baser part of him wanted Steve there so when he started nesting it would be in  _ there _ home. He wanted to see every minute change to his body  as it happened, watch Steve make a place for their child to sleep more than he wanted his next breath. But what he said was, “I am very okay with it. Move in with me, kitten.” 

 

And Steve said, “Okay.” 

 

Tony sent people over to Steve’s basement apartment the next day to box up all his stuff that wasn’t water damaged and bring it to the tower and catalogue all the stuff that was and move it into storage until Steve decided what to do with it. 

 

Steve moved in and a week or so later they started decorated for Christmas together in the penthouse. They picked out a tree and set it up in the living room. Tony broke out the box of decorations he’d hung on to after his parents died. He had DUM-E and U come up and help hang ornaments on the tree. At one point, U came over to where Steve was kneeling on the ground, going through the bags of some of the new things they’d bought, and tried to hand him a glass. Tony glances up at the right moment and rushed over to intercept. “Don’t drink anything U gives you,” he said in answer to Steve’s frown. 

 

“Sorry, U,” Steve told the bot, patting it and going back to rummaging. Steve was apologizing to Tony’s bot for not drinking whatever horrible concoction was in the glass Tony was holding. Just when he thought he couldn’t love him more… 

 

Later that night,  curled up on the couch and watching a movie, Steve turned to look at the stockings on the fireplace. They’d bought two matching ones for themselves, but there was an older one handing closer to the end of the mantle. Steve hadn’t asked about it earlier when Tony hung it , but he did now. “Why does JARVIS have a stocking but U and DUM-E don’t?” 

 

“That’s not for JARVIS the AI. That’s,” he paused and looked at the same stocking he had hung every year wherever he was during Christmas. “That’s for the human Jarvis.”

 

Steve sat up from his sprawl half across Tony’s lap and he missed the warmth. “Jarvis is a person?” 

 

“Was. Jarvis was the butler, but he practically raised, him and his wife Anna.” 

 

“Tony, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” 

 

“No, you should. I hardly talk about him anymore. I’m not on speaking terms still with anyone else who ever met him except for Rhodey.” Tony chuckled remembering that day. “Jarvis drove me back to MIT one year. Rhodey has just turned twenty one and was hauling a keg into his dorm with a couple of buddies. I was maybe eighteen at the time and Jarvis gave him a lecture about not letting me drink.”

 

“Did they?” 

 

“Let me drink?” Tony snorted. “Oh, they tried to stop me, but as you’ll remember telling me not to do something is the best way to get me to do it.” 

 

Steve’s cheeks went red at the reminder of the spa king Tony had given him, but he pressed a gentle kiss to Tony’s lips and curled back up at his side. “He sounds nice. I wish I’d gotten to meet him.” 

 

“He would have liked you.” When Steve yawned a few minutes later Tony said, “Let’s go to bed.” 

 

Steve didn’t protest, let Tony help him up from the couch. Even after getting iron supplements to combat the worsening of his anemia with the pregnancy, Steve was still tired all the time. Tony went to bed with him every night and sometimes he even fell asleep. Most nights he waited until Steve drifted off and went down to the workshop. He had been keeping an eye on Steve’s best friend. He should be stateside before Christmas and Tony knew Steve would want to go see him. Tony wanted to go see Rhodey anyway and he promised Fury that he would drob by the Tirskelion with him when he came down. Leaving the date up in the air had annoyed Fury which just made Tony happy. The man was too way to annoy. 

 

Besides that, though, he had something he was working on for no other reason than to make Steve happy. If it helped endear him to his omegas best friend while he was at it? Well, that was just a bonus. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. Yes, I did make Christine Everhart a flaming cuntcicle. I’m not sorry. I needed a reporter for be a tool and I decided to use one from the movies. She was available. 
> 
> So there will be Christmas (maybe—I might make that a separate bonus thing and pick up the next chapter after Xmas) and Bucky (plus another character—can you guess who) and Rhodey (do you know where that’s going yet and why??). 
> 
> I know where I want this fic to end (like what major event) which will (if it goes to plan) be right before the epilogue. But we’ll see. Cause seriously I don’t even know where this thing is going. Obviously. 80k!? 🧐


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just fluffy Christmas fluff lol
> 
> The next chapter will be actual plot. Don’t know when I’ll update cause fall semester starts next week and I’m back at my old job. Plus I for some reason am working on two WIPS that I don’t plan on posting until they’re finished (or close to) as well as a couple one shots and my two other posted fics. Why I do this to myself? 😂 
> 
> Kudos and comments are lovely. ❤️  
> Find me on tumblr @dyslexicsquirrel I mostly reblog MCU stuff and post about my fics. Send me prompts if you want!

“Merry Christmas, kitten.” 

 

Steve heard the words spoken softly against his ear, along with Tony’s breath warm against his skin. He pulled the covers over his head, grumbling into his pillow. “Still sleeping.”

 

“You sound awake.” Tony sounded far too amused and  _ awake _ . He probably had coffee, the bastard. 

 

“Sounds can be deceiving.” He peeked out at Tony. Steve usually loved Christmas, but he was so  _ tired _ . There was a chance this exhaustion would get better after the first trimester and Steve hoped so because he couldn’t sleep until August but it’s what he felt like doing. Hibernate. Hibernating sounded amazing. Why didn’t humans do it? 

 

“Come on, get up. It’s almost noon” When he just burrowed back under the covers, Tony turned cajoling. “I made French toast and hot chocolate.” 

 

Steve pulled the covers back enough to look at Tony. “With strawberries? And whipped cream?” 

 

“Mhmm.” He carded his fingers through Steve’s hair. “I have a present for you, too.” 

 

“I told you not to get me anything.” 

 

“You actually thought I was going to listen to you when you said that?” He hadn’t, but it had been worth a shot. “You’ll like it, I promise.” 

 

Of course he would. That hadn’t even been in doubt, but Steve still hesitated to get out from the warm covers and tightened them around his shoulders. “I don’t want to get out of bed,” he admitted. 

 

“My poor kitten.” Tony pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I guess the nesting has started.” 

 

“Isn’t it a little early for that?” Steve asked, blinking up at him. 

 

“Not according to the books you still haven’t read.” 

 

“I got through the first chapter.” Of one of the books. It was so stupid. He wanted this baby and everything that went with it, but reading books about pregnancy was still freaking him out. Maybe after his doctor’s appointment Friday he would feel less shaken.

 

Tony gave him an indulgent smile. He’d been so much more settled since Steve moved in. It was such an alpha thing that it still surprised Steve even though it probably shouldn’t, not where he was concerned and definitely not after the press conference. 

 

They were still dealing with the fallout and if it wasn’t for the parking garage exit, they wouldn’t be able to leave the building without getting mobbed. Tony admitting he was Iron Man was still being talked about more than their relationship, but both were getting airtime, print and mentioned online. Tony had stopped trying to hide when he came and went from the tower in the suit, which was usually only for tests on the Mark 6 (though he had stopped a high speed chase and Steve had rolled his eyes when Tony came back). He put something outside in a platform that took the suit off so he didn’t have to go to the workshop before coming up to the penthouse. The whole thing was just weird. He was dating Tony Stark who was Iron Man, they lived together and Steve was having his baby. People had started calling  _ him  _ with requests for interviews and Steve just kept saying he would get back to them. Which he never did. 

 

“It’s a start.” Tony stood. “I’ll bring breakfast—even though I guess it’s brunch now—upstairs and you can stay in bed for a little longer. Then presents.” Over his shoulder on the way out the door, he said, “Don’t forget we’re seeing the Barnes brood later.” 

 

Steve pulled the blankets back over his head to muffle his groan. He loved them but he knew they were going to be full of questions and he didn’t know if he was up to it without blurting out that he was pregnant. He just wasn’t ready for them to know yet. 

 

* * *

 

They ate breakfast in bed, Steve even letting Tony feed him a few bites and Tony finally coaxed him out of bed by assuring him he didn’t need to put the comforter down. They trekked down the stairs, Steve wrapped in the comforter, the ends of it trailing behind him, but when Steve headed for the tree Tony tugged at the fabric swaddling his omega and led him toward the guest room. Steve shot him a suspicious glance. 

 

Tony stopped at the first door. “Open it.” 

 

Steve looked at the door, at him, and back. After working a hand out of his blanket burrito he pushed the door open. The corners of his mouth turned down in a frown. “Okay, what am I looking at?” 

 

Admittedly, it wasn’t that exciting on first examination, being an empty room. “It’s the kids room.” 

 

Steve spun around so fast he almost tripped over the comforter. Tony grabbed hold of him until he had his footing but didn’t move his hand, opting to run them up and down Steve’s comforter covered arms. “This is—it’s—you mean a nursery?” 

 

Tony couldn’t quite figure out what the tone of Steve’s voice meant. “I actually figured we could put a crib in the bedroom for, you know, a while. And then move the kid in there. It’s not really all the close to the master, which isn’t super convenient when the kid has to eat every two hours. But when they’re older, yeah. I had the room emptied out so we can do whatever with it. But, yeah, a nursery if you want.”

 

Steve started blinking, head tipped up to look at him, and then his eyes welled with tears. “You really thought about this didn’t you?” 

 

“Of course I did. I’m a planner. I like having plans.” Tony pulled him in close, wrapping his arms around Steve, rocking him side to side while tears traced wet tracks down his cheeks. His poor omega. 

 

“I guess if you were going to disregard my ‘No presents’ rule this is a good one.” He sniffed. “I hadn’t thought about where the peanut would go.” Tony felt Steve’s hands move between them, cupping his still flat stomach. 

 

“Peanut, huh?” Steve hummed against his chest. “I’m glad you like your present—Peanut’s present? Whatever.” He started steering Steve to the next room. “But it’s not the only one. And this one is all for you.” 

 

When they were standing in front of the door, Tony opened it this time so Steve didn’t have to move his hands then ushered him inside. 

 

“Tony,” Steve breathed, looking around. Pulling the comforter tighter around himself, he shuffled farther into the room before turning around in a circle. He ended when he faced Tony, biting his quivering lip. 

 

Tony’s eyebrows slowly rose. “Are these good tears or bad tears?” 

 

“Good.” Steve turned back around to look at the room and Tony wrapped his arms around him from behind. “This is your home, too. I want you to have a place that’s just yours. If I forgot anything just let me know.” 

 

“Steve shook his head. “This is perfect.” He chuckled. “It’s too much, but it’s perfect.” 

 

Steve had no idea. He’d been tossing around the idea of offering to pay for Steve to go to art school. Rhodey (in lieu of the therapist he still hadn’t found) has talked him down (after getting done yelling at him about the armor he was consulting on with SHIELD after Rhodey had talked to Fury and keeping the Iron Man thing from him) and this had been the compromise. He’d already gotten Rhodey a gift, but now he’d need to get him something else, too. 

 

* * *

 

Clara answered the door when to Mrs. Barnes’ apartment, wearing elf pajamas, complete with matching  hat. She threw her arms around Steve and did the same to Tony who looked nonplussed at the contact, but patted her lightly on the back. Emma, Sarah, George and Ben were all wearing the same pajamas when they got to the living room. It was the same every Christmas, the family got matching pajamas and wore them while they opened presents. Steve hopes he would be exempt this year, but no such luck and to Steve’s horror, when Emma was cajoling Steve to go change, Sarah pulled out another pair and held them out to Tony. 

 

“Uh…” Tony looked at them like they would bite him if he touched them. 

 

“Sarah, be nice.” 

 

“If we have to look ridiculous, so does he.” 

 

“Hey,” Clara exclaimed, glaring at her sister. This year she got to pick out the pajamas and Steve bit his lip so he wouldn’t laugh. 

 

“What? They’re ridiculous. The hat has ears.” She pointed to them for emphasis. 

 

“I think they’re cute,” Emma said quietly and Clara stuck her tongue out at Sarah, who just rolled her eyes. 

 

Steve shrugged helplessly at Tony. He wasn’t going to be able to get out of it. Tony was on his own here. As he walked off to the bathroom, Steve glanced over his shoulder and caught Tony’s eyes. “Traitor,” he mouthed and Steve turned away to hide his smirk. 

 

Steve went into the bedroom that used to be Bucky’s, which was technically a guest room, but everyone still called it Bucky’s room. Steve had slept on a blowup mattress on the floor more times than he could count growing up. 

 

He was stripped down to his pants, feet bare, hands on the zipper when the door opened behind him. He spun around, hunching just in case his belly had suddenly grown in the last two seconds, but it was just Tony and he sighed in relief. “They bullied you into becoming an elf, didn’t they? They’re good at that.” 

 

“They did,” Tony said, stalking toward him, tossing the green, red and white pajamas on the bed behind Steve and claiming his mouth in a rough kiss. Steve clutched at his arms, moaning into Tony’s mouth. When Tony let him up for air, he said, “You could have warned me about that.” 

 

“I was hoping they’d let it slide for once.” 

 

Tony hmm-ed, steering Steve toward the bed until he fell back on it with a yelp. He followed him down, blanketing Steve’s body and it made him all the more aware of his bare chest when Tony’s sweater brushed his skin. “I think you owe me for that, kitten.”

 

“We’re not having sex in Mrs. Barnes’ apartment,” Steve hissed, batting Tony’s hands away from his sides where they were stroking down toward his waist. Tony lifted his hands, but he also settled more comfortably on top of Steve, keeping his weight off Steve’s belly with his elbows. 

 

“I’m not talking about sex. Exactly.”

 

“Well, whatever you’re talking about  _ exactly _ , you can forget it.” Steve glared up at Tony, but God they hadn’t had sex in a while because Steve kept falling asleep and Tony felt so good pressed against him. He could already feel himself getting wet. 

 

“Are you sure?” Tony nuzzled his neck. His next words were spoken directly into Steve’s ear, that sensation alone sending shivers down his spine. “Cause I was really hoping to get my mouth on your dick.” 

 

“Jesus, Tony,” Steve moaned, hands lifting to clutch at Tony’s shoulders. 

 

“It’s your fault, you know,” Tony said, trailing kisses down Steve’s neck, across his collarbone. “My omega is so pretty.” 

 

“I like it when you call me that,” Steve sighed before he could second guess it, tipping his head back, acquiescing to whatever Tony wanted to do. They worked together and lived together now, but Steve missed him, missed this. His alpha touching him, claiming him, because that was what Tony was. Admitting this much he could do after Tony had given him so much, not just today but everyday. It wasn’t easy for Steve to ever admit he needed anything, not wanting to appear weak, but Tony never made him feel that way. 

 

“What, pretty?” 

 

“No. Well, yes,” he amended, blushing. “But the other thing.” 

 

Tony paused, lifting his head slowly to look at Steve. “My omega?” Steve bit his lip and nodded. Tony’s eyes flared with possessive heat before he pressed a hard kiss to Steve’s lips. “I’ll call you that all the time, kitten, if you like it so much.” 

 

The words ‘yes, please’ and ‘I love you’ we’re on the top of his tongue, but all Steve said was, “Alpha.” 

 

Tony was reverent when he kissed his way down Steve’s chest, when he pressed his lips to his still flat abdomen, and undid Steve’s pants. He pulled them down with careful hands, kissing each of Steve’s hips when they were uncovered as he pulled his boxers down. 

 

Running his hands through Tony’s hair, Steve relaxed against the bed, sighing when Tony wrapped his hand around Steve’s erection. His fingers clenched in the strands when Tony drew his tongue up the length in his hand, not that Tony complained. Tony pressed a kiss to the head of his cock, lips parted to draw it into his mouth, but Steve, “Wait, wait.” 

 

At Tony’s questioning look, Steve said, “grab my shirt. I don’t want to leak all over the bed.” He blushed saying the words, cheeks heating even more when Tony chuckled, but while everyone probably knew something was going on with them being gone so long, Steve didn’t want to leave proof. Tony snagged his shirt where it was folded on the end of the bed, working it under Steve when he lifted his hips. 

 

Tony wasted no time getting back to the task he set for himself, reducing Steve to writhing and purring. How this was making up for Tony having to wear elf pajamas, Steve had no idea but he wasn’t complaining. Tony had a perfect balance between tongue and suction, the possessive growl rumbling from his chest adding another layer of sensation, and when he came Steve had to bite his lip to muffle his moan, fingers pulling at Tony’s hair. 

 

Tony pulled him close after, stroking his back while his breathing evened out and his heart rate slowed. He pressing kisses to Steve’s forehead, spike soft words against his skin. “My sweet omega. My pretty, little kitten.” 

 

Steve would have stayed there forever if there hadn’t been a knock at the door. “Hey, Steve?” It was Clara. “You okay in there?”

 

“Yup, be out in a minute.” Steve could feel Tony’s chest vibrating with a laugh and glared at him. “It’s not funny,” he told Tony, but he was laughing too. 

 

They helped each other get changed, giggling like teenagers who just got caught foolishness by around by their parents. When they got back out into the living room, they got knowing looks from several pairs of eyes and Steve tried not to blush too much. Mrs. Barnes didn’t comment, but Steve knew she knew. 

 

He sat next to Tony on the couch, ate Christmas cookies and opened presents. Tony had Steve order presents from the both of them for the whole family, which they all exclaimed over. It was the best Christmas Steve could remember in a long time. The only thing that would have made it better was if Bucky had been there. 

 

Steve pulled Tony’s head down for a kiss, ignoring the hoots and whistles from Bucky’s sisters. He was too happy to care. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Instead of doing my Women in Religion assignments, I wrote this! Good use of my time, right? XD 
> 
> Fluff+angst+showersex ❤️ Enjoy 
> 
> Also, BUCKY AND RHODEY. Not together, but both of them are in this chapter! :D

New Years came and went with Steve falling asleep well before midnight on New Years Eve and Tony spending the rest of the night in his workshop going over proposals from R&D and the schematics for the arm for his omega’s friend. Dr. Cho had sent him some feedback on the neural interface and suggestions on the materials. They were heading to DC in a few weeks. What he thought would be nothing more than a trip to see Rhodey and for Steve to see his friend who had been transferred to Walter Reed had turned into a bunch of meetings. 

 

“You’ve created a mess for me, Stark. And now you’re going to help me clean it up because that revelation you made in front of a room full of journalists has the US government a little on edge. Not to mention the foreign ones since you also entered another country without authorization.” Tony had scoffed at Fury sounding so dire. “This isn’t a joke. They want to put you in front of a Senate committee, but I’ve held them off for now. The World Security Council isn’t too happy either.” 

 

“I’m not too worried about it,” he’d said, even though he was. Sort of. He had things to lose now, thinking of his pretty, pregnant omega sitting at the desk outside his office who came home from lunch yesterday with Darcy from HR with a bag full of tiny, baby things and spent most of his time in the penthouse piled under pillows and blankets when he wasn’t painting in his studio and had a slight swell to his belly. 

 

“I’m probably just bloated,” Steve had told him, rolling his eyes, when Tony pointed it out one night in bed, pouring over a copy of  _ What to Expect When You’re Expecting _ . 

 

Tony let it drop, but there was definitely a bump. 

 

“You should be,” Fury said, pulling him back to the phone call. “See me when you’re in DC.” 

 

He’d hung up on Tony, which put him in an even worse mood. That had been a week ago and he was trying not to stress Steve out and hadn’t told him about the whole mess. Steve was just so happy about getting to see his best friend and finally meeting Rhodey. When Steve walked into the workshop that morning carrying two mugs full of coffee, Tony was still trying to figure out how to bring it up without making it sound like something he needed to worry about. 

 

Steve set both of the mugs down, taking his StarkPad out from under his arm and pulled up a stool. “I arranged the flight to DC with the pilot and the crew. It’s still weird that you have your own plane. I don’t know why that’s one of the things that still gets me, but it is. The suits that you want to bring will get back from the cleaners tomorrow and I’ll start packing later.” 

 

“You don’t need to do that.” Tony frowned at him, not liking the idea of his pregnant omega hefting luggage.

 

“Calm down, alpha,” Steve said, not lifting his head from the tablet. “I’m your assistant. It’s my job.” 

 

Steve had been doing that a lot lately, calling him ‘alpha’. It made something possessive inside him preen and rumble every time he heard it. Something told Tony that Steve knew it, too, on some level. The way he stood or walked or sat lately had shifted, so subtly Tony almost hadn’t noticed, but when he had he realized that he’d been answering it in his own way. Standing closer to each other, a physical barrier between Steve and other people in a mimic of what he did when they first met but the meaning was deeper now, putting a hand in the small of his back with they walked, hyper vigilant to who was around them. It was behavior that a few months ago would have had Tony worried, but now he just accepted it. If he ever found a therapist, maybe he or she would see it differently, but Tony didn’t care. He felt needed and he’d been sleeping better ever since Steve moved in... when he actually slept—he was still a workaholic. But he didn’t wake up in a near panic anymore, no night sweats, and when he wanted to sleep he could.  

 

“I’m starting to regret not letting you quit,” he mumbled into his mug. 

 

“Too late now, at least for this,” Steve said, laughing, putting his tablet down to take a sip of coffee, eyes closing in bliss. Eyes still closed, he told Tony, “Don’t worry, though. I had Happy get the luggage down for me and he promised to take it to the car even when I didn’t tell him why.” 

 

Tony grumbled, scrolling through some of the emails on one of the screens next to him. “The doctor said doing normal activities was fine, Tony. You were there.”

 

Tony grumbled some more and Steve chuckled, standing to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’m gonna get dressed. Don’t forget you and Pepper have a meeting today at two. And, no, you can’t miss it. She’s going back to California tomorrow,” he said before the elevator doors closed. 

 

He was still grumbling a few hours later when he went upstairs to get dressed and make an appearance on the executive floor. He did not miss the meeting. 

 

* * *

 

They arrived in DC late on a Tuesday night and Steve was half asleep against Tony’s shoulder in the car that picked them up at the airport. “Did we really need to stay at the Ritz?” 

 

Steve’s voice was muffled against Tony’s jacket. “I like their toast,” he said, without looking up from his phone. 

 

“You’re paying two hundred dollars a night because of toast?” Steve sounded incredulous and Tony bit his lip so he wouldn’t smile, shrugging the shoulder Steve wasn’t leaning against. “Rich people are weird.” 

 

Tony helped Steve from the car when the driver stopped in front of the hotel and the valet opened the door. “Do you want to go check in while I make sure they get the bags from the car?”

 

Tony mulled, hand absentmindedly rubbing Steve’s bicep through his coat while a uniformed bellhop loaded their bags onto a wheeled cart. He could do that. Probably what he would do if his PA was anyone other than Steve. He didn’t like the idea of him out here in the cold for even a minute longer than he had to be. “How about you go inside and check in while I make sure they get the bags from the car?” 

 

Steve didn’t have a chance to answer because someone behind them gasped and Tony spun on his heel, shifting so he stood in front of Steve. It was just a group of young kids, maybe college age walking by, staring at him and pouiing while they whispered. One of the braver ones took a step closer. “Are you Iron Man?”

 

Tony gave them a practiced smile, hiding his annoyance at the interruption. He wanted to get his omega inside. But pissing off the public wasn’t a good move when a bunch of politicians and world leaders were feeling uneasy about him and his suit. “Sure am.” 

 

“Can we get a picture?” The brave one, a brunette woman with glasses, held up a phone. Tony glanced at Steve who rolled his eyes and shook his head, smiling. He said something to the bellhop and headed inside with a look at Tony over his shoulder. His expression said, “Have fun.” 

 

“No problem,” Tony told the group, asking the valet to snap the picture. He kept one eye on the door, feeling antsy with Steve out of sight in a new place, but the first crowd brought more people (he couldn’t even blame the ARC reactor since it’s glow was covered you his coat) and he took photos with a seemingly endless line of people before making a break for it inside. He found Steve seated in a chair reading a magazine, the bellhop with the rolling cart piled with their luggage (mostly Tony’s) waiting nearby. He pressed a kiss to the top of Steve’s head to get his attention, pulling in a deep breath now that he was close to him again. 

 

Steve tipped his head back to look up at him. “All finished with your adoring public?” 

 

“How’s a shower sound?” He asked by way of response. He wiggles his eyebrows. “I’ll wash your hair.” 

 

Steve laughed and took his hand when Tony held it out to help him stand. Their shower devolved fast, Tony pressing kisses to Steve’s neck, lingering over the scent glands. Steve leaned back against his chest, reaching a hand up to clutch Tony’s hair, hips canting back. The warm steam from the shower and the closed space of the glasses in enclosure was amplifying Steve’s scent and Tony could tell he was slick before he even touched between his cheeks. 

 

One hand curved over Steve’s belly, Tony pressed the omega against the wall, sliding into his warm, slick hole slowly. They both moaned at the feeling of being joined after so long. He set a slow rhythm, rocking his hips, Steve’s gasps a balm. Steve stroked his own erection, pressing back to meet Tony’s thrusts. It wasn’t long before Steve came, taking Tony with him, huffing when he kept his knot outside. 

 

“Do you want to get stuck in here for however long it takes it to go down?” As it was, Tony was still coming, Steve’s internal muscles milking his dick. 

 

“Guess not,” he said, but still didn’t sound happy about it. Tony washed every inch of him in apology. 

 

When they left the bathroom in a cloud of steam, Tony had to carry his omega from the shower, wrapped in towels and purring as he fought sleep. Tony tucked him into bed. “Go to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.” 

 

Steve drifted off with a contented noise making Tony’s chest puff in pride because his omega was happy. Sitting with his back against the headboard, Tony kept one hand on Steve’s thigh over the blankets and finished going through all his emails. 

 

* * *

 

Steve lingered in the hall outside Bucky’s room and couldn’t seem able to make himself walk through the door, swamped in anxiety. Whenever he had imagined this moment, he always thought he’d run into the room and hug Bucky for the first time in over a year. His family wouldn’t be able to visit for a while, if at all, while he was going through PT. Tony offered to pay their expenses, but as much as Steve appreciated the gesture, the Barnes’ were a proud lot and wouldn’t accept charity even for this. That was even if they could get the time off work and Emma and Clara could miss school.

 

So, Steve was all Bucky had and he couldn’t move his damn feet. He didn’t know why. Well, no he did—Steve worried what his best friend would think of Tony and the fact that he was pregnant. If he didn’t already know about Tony, that was, from all the news coverage. They mostly talked about Iron Man, but the fact that he and Tony were together and that had been the main reason for the press conference in the first place hadn’t been forgotten about. Staring at the wall, trying to psych himself up, Steve didn’t notice someone step out of Bucky’s room. 

 

“Are you Steve,” a slightly accented voice said (Southern maybe?) and he jumped. “Hey, sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” 

 

Steve turned toward the voice. The alpha was tall and slim with dark skin, kind eyes, and a gap toothed smile framed by a goatee. He instantly put Steve at ease and he didn’t hesitate to grip the hand held out to him. The handshake was firm, but not like he had something to prove.  “How did you know my name?” 

 

“Sorry about that, too,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m Sam Wilson, James’ counselor. He told me about you.” Steve’s eyebrows popped up at someone calling Bucky  _ James _ . The other man paused, head cocked to the side. “I don’t think he knew you were coming?” 

 

“No, I wanted to surprise him.” 

 

“Ah,” he said. His face softened in understanding when Steve kept glancing at the door, but didn’t move to enter. “He’ll be happy to see you.” 

 

I don’t know about that, he thought, flushing when Sam gave him a curious look and he realized he said it out loud. “I have a lot to tell him and I don’t know how happy he’s going to be about some of it.” 

 

“He’ll be happy to see you,” Sam repeated. And that was the important thing wasn’t it? Bucky had put his life on the line for his country and the men he served with. The least Steve could do was say “Hey, by the way, I’m dating my boss and we’re having a baby.” Own up to his life that, quite frankly, was amazing even with all the issues they were facing. 

 

Hell, Tony was dealing with stuff right now that was harder than this. Hadn’t told him until Steve prodded in the car on the way here. “It’ll be fine, kitten,” Tony said looking more confident than he sounded. “I caused a bit of a stir when I admitted to being Iron Man. Fury’s pissed, but keeping the dogs at bay. Not your fault,” he cut off whatever Steve had been about to say, probably an apology, stroking his cheek. “I made that decision myself. If it hadn’t happened then, it would have eventually. I don't like other people getting credit for my stuff.” 

 

“Rhodey’ll be with you?” 

 

Tony laughed, pulling him to his side. “You haven’t even met him yet and you trust him more than me. Speaks well for you.” 

 

It wasn’t that he trusted Tony’s friend more; he just didn’t want him facing whatever this was alone. “He  _ was _ responsible for my studio,” he said, trying for a joke. 

 

“Hey, he gets like 12% of the credit for that. The other 88% was all me.” 

 

Tony had smiled at him when Steve climbed out of the car after they agreed for Tony to meet him here after his meeting. They were having dinner with Rhodey tomorrow and Steve wanted Tony to meet Bucky, but hadn’t been sure if today would be a good time to make the introduction. Tony was leaving it up to Steve. 

 

He definitely did not want them meeting without Bucky having all the facts cause it would just be harder to tell him later. Since when have you been a coward, he asked himself. He sighed, giving Sam a weary smile. “Yeah. I’ll be happy to see him, too.” 

 

“He’s not doing anything now, head on in.” Sam clapped him on the shoulder. Before walking down the hall he said, “Good luck.”

 

Steve took a deep breath, put one foot in front of the other. Bucky was his best friend; it would be fine. Even if he did get mad, it wouldn’t be the first time. They were like brothers and fought like it. Besides, it was Steve’s life and whether Bucky approved or not wasn’t going to change what happened between him and Tony. It would suck not having Bucky’s approval, but Tony was his alpha, the father of his baby, and the man he loved even if he hadn’t ever said it out loud. Steve didn’t think it would come to that, but a lot of things he hadn't expected to happen had happened. He buried his mother alone; Steve could get through his best friend and his boyfriend not getting along. 

 

Bucky looked up from the book he was reading when Steve walked in, left sleeve of his t-shirt hanging limp and empty, left leg in a cast from foot to hip. His eyes widened in surprise, then he smiled, crooked and familiar. There were still healing cuts on the visible skin or his face and arm and a nasty looking bruise on his temple even though it had been months since the accident. “Hey, punk.” 

 

All the plans Steve might have had about giving Bucky shit or pulling up a chair and having a serious discussion went out the window because at those words tears filled Steve’s eyes, spilling down his cheeks and Bucky stared at him in horror while Steve climbed onto the hospital bed, slipping his arms around Bucky, crying against his chest. 

 

“Not so hard, Stevie. I broke a couple ribs.” Steve mumbled an apology without lifting his head, but he loosened his arms and felt Bucky’s right hand rub his back. Resting his chin against the top of Steve’s head, Bucky said, “I’m okay, punk. I’m okay.” 

 

* * *

 

“You built a flying tin can and didn’t tell me?”

 

Rhodey was seated next to him at a table in front of screens with the floating heads of the members of the World Security Council who were arguing with Fury about his future, which would be hilarious if it wasn’t pissing him off. Let them try to take his suits. He looked at Rhodey out of the corner of his eye. “I didn’t tell anyone.” 

 

“You told Steve. Because he didn’t look all that surprised when you dropped that bomb on live tv. Did you realize there was live coverage or was that a mistake?” 

 

“I...didn’t know that…until later. And of course I told Steve.” He shifted in his seat, slouching more. “We have a no secrets policy.” 

 

“That’s sweet,” Rhodey replied, the sarcasm palpable. “I thought we had a best friends policy.” 

 

Tony knew Rhodey was mad at him about getting him involved in the War Machine thing with SHIELD (and really? What kind of a name was that? Fury needed better people in the marketing department) so he cut him some slack. He wasn’t mad at Steve or even upset about Steve knowing—it was frustration at Tony keeping him out for the last year. Plus, they were both grumpy from being locked in this room for hours. “I was going to tell you. Eventually.” 

 

Rhodey scoffed at the same moment Fury turned to glare at them with his one good eye. “Children, do you mind?” 

 

They both shut up, turning the same innocent expression on Fury they gave their professors at MIT when they got caught talking during class. As soon as Fury turned away, Rhodey said, “I don’t want to work with that guy.” 

 

“Necessary evil,” he said. For all of Fury’s faults, and the man had a lot of them, there were benefits to having him on their side—or not completely working against them anyway. Tony leaned closer to Rhodey. “There was a lot going on and you’re not the easiest person to get ahold of sometimes.” 

 

“So it’s my fault you were keeping me out of the loop? And then tossed me into this without giving me details?” 

 

“That’s not what I meant,” he started to tell the other man, but something one of the old white dudes said caught his attention and he turned to them. “There’s no way you’re getting anything. It’s all proprietary technology of Stark Industries. So try me. I have better lawyers. And a Pepper.” 

 

“You’re not helping, Stark,” Fury said, hands on his hips, lips thinning. 

 

“No, no, there’s no way this is happening, whatever it is they’re thinking.” He leaned his elbows on the table, wagging a finger back and forth to indicate the WSC leaders. “The suit is mine, I’m Iron Man; where it goes, I go, and I’m not handing over any plans. It’s bad enough SHIELD has anything. Did Fury tell you that, by the way? They—well, me really—built Rhodey here a suit.” His friend looked at him in disbelief and he shrugged his shoulders at effectively throwing him under the bus. They would have found out why he was here eventually anyway. “Best pilot in the United States Air Force. I’m sure Pierce over there knows who he is. So, it’s not just me and no one else is going to be able to build anything similar without my help, which they’re not getting, for years.” 

 

“Excuse me, Mr. Stark, but I beg to differ,” the distinguished looking Indian gentleman said. He motioned to someone out of frame and another screen popped up showing footage of a clearly inferior version of the suit on the screen because it malfunctioned and looked like it killed the person inside. Ouch. Justin Hammer, the weasel, ran over and started shouting to shut everything down and turn off the cameras. “If, as you say, everyone else is years away, why then has this happened?”

 

“That’s his fault.” Tony pointed at Fury. Everyone stared at him. “It is. He’s the one who had Hammer consulting and swore he wasn’t given any pertinent information. You’re kind of the worst spymaster. Ever. Just saying.” 

 

“Mr. Stark, SHIELD is not without blame here,” the blonde woman said in her posh, English accent. “But that does not change the fact that you currently have a weapon that you used to take out a terrorist cell in a foreign country without authorization.” 

 

“Weapon is such an ugly word.” Tony spread his hands, leaning back in his seat. “And I thought taking out terrorist was a good thing? You’re welcome for that, by the way.” 

 

“No one is saying you didn’t do the world a favor, Stark,” Fury said, starting off more arguments from the Council members. He spoke over them. “They’re just worried about oversight here. They want guarantees you won’t turn your  _ weapon _ on them.” 

 

“And let me guess, the guarantees would be you pulling my strings?” 

 

“He’ll be pulling mine, apparently,” Rhodey said. “Partly. Military brass likes the idea of a joint operation with SHIELD.” 

 

“They want you to spy on the spy for them,” Tony pointed out. 

 

“Obviously. But…” Rhodey trailed off, shrugging. 

 

“Aw, we’ll be suit bros. Taking out the bad guys together.” 

 

“You mean I’ll be saving your ass.” 

 

“Gentleman,” someone said, interrupting Tony and Rhodey’s verbal sparring match. “Could we get back to the topic at hand.” 

 

“Nah, I think we’re done here. We’re done here, right?” He asked no one in particular, standing from his seat, Rhodey following suit. “I have things to do. Don’t really feel like dealing with any of you lot, anyway. Bad enough I’m stuck with that one,” he waved a hand at Fury, “and his—what did you call it—Avengers Initiative. That name is marginally better than War Machine. Who came up with that anyway?” 

 

“I dunno, I kind of like it.” 

 

“You would.” Tony tapped the panel to open the door. 

 

“Gentleman, we’re not done here.” 

 

“Yeah. We are. If you need anything else, talk to my agent. Fury’ll handle it.” The door slid shut behind them, blocking out the sounds of angry voices. 

 

“You going to meet the family now?” 

 

“No. Met the family already. This is what amounts to the older brother.” 

 

Rhodey winced in sympathy. 

 

* * *

 

Leaning against the wall across the hall, Tony could see Steve sitting cross legged on his best friend’s bed, smiling and laughing. He felt like a spy, which was funny seeing as where he’d come from, but he couldn’t make himself walk way or interrupt. Steve looked more relaxed than he ever had since Tony had known him. He knew, logically, it was for a lot of reasons and he wasn’t jealous (per say), but it did make him feel almost lacking that nothing he had done made that happen.

 

Hadn’t it, though, a voice in his head asked? He wasn’t sure how to answer that. 

 

His head was a mess after the meeting at the Triskelion and the fallout that could happen. He’d played it confident, but he felt untethered until he saw Steve. The omega kept him grounded and also scared the crap out of him because he wasn’t a man who had everything and nothing anymore—he just had everything, which meant he had everything to lose. 

 

“Don’t waste your life, Stark,” Yinsen has told him in that cave before the light faded from his eyes. The other alpha had given him a chance—a chance for this—and he didn't want to stick his head in the sand (aka hide in his workshop) anymore. He needed to fight to keep it and part of that was making sure that the version of his omega in front of him now was there all the time. 

 

“Mr. Stark?” 

 

Tony turned his head toward the voice belonging to a dark skinned alpha. “Yeah?” 

 

“Grape vine said you were around here somewhere.” The man held his hand out. “Sam Wilson. I’m one of the counselors.” 

 

Tony unfolded from the wall enough to take his hand and tipped his hand toward the room. “You wouldn’t happen to be his counselor, would you?” 

 

“Bingo,” Sam said with a crooked smile. 

 

He nodded, turning back toward the door. “Guess he knows already then.” 

 

Sam snorted. “Not because of the news.” Tony looked at him in question and the other man rolled his eyes. “James doesn’t watch TV. Not since he’s been here anyway. Can’t say Steve hasn’t told him by now, though.” 

 

“Right.” He sighed. “Probably time to face the music.” 

 

“Gonna have to eventually,” Sam said, not unkindly. 

 

Tony nodded again, but paused after taking a step toward the door. “By any chance, you know of a good therapist in New York?” 

 

“I might. I’ll get you the information before you leave.” 

 

* * *

 

Steve turned at the sound of a light knock at the door, feeling his smile get even bigger when he saw Tony standing there. “Hey,” he said, sanding from the bed to walk over and wrap his arms around the alpha. “Everything go okay?” 

 

“As well as can be expected.” That didn’t sound promising, but Tony looked over his shoulder. “Why don’t you introduce me?” 

 

“Right.” Steve took hold of Tony’s hand, leading him into the room. Bucky had taken the news of his pregnancy better than he’d expected. He had gotten quiet and only threatened to kill Tony once before Steve got him to shut and listen to him when he told him that it wasn’t Tony's fault and anyway, they were in a relationship and living together and it wasn’t Bucky’s responsibility to defend his damn honor. 

 

Bucky had glared mulishly at Steve for a while before finally asking, “He make you happy?” 

 

“Yeah, Buck. He really does.” Tony made him so happy, but some part of Steve kept waiting for something to happen and take that happiness away. But that was something to worry about later. Bucky had grumbled for a minute before sighing and waving Steve back up onto the bed since he'd stood up to pace after his crying jag. 

 

“Explains the waterworks, at least. You’re all hormonal.” Steve climbed back on the bed and punched Bucky in the arm. Bucky collapsed back against the bed dramatically. “Call the nurse. I think you broke it. They’re gonna have to cut my other arm off.” 

 

“You’re an idiot.” The afternoon had progressed like that, Bucky telling Steve what he could about his deployment and the people he served with, Steve catching him up on everything he’d missed, his new friend Darcy, and what was happening with Bucky’s family even though he knew Mrs. Barnes and his sisters had called him. Steve had even shown him the ultrasound. 

Bucky squinted at the grainy black and white picture. “He has your nose.” 

 

Steve snatched his phone back. “There isn’t a nose yet. And you don’t know it's a boy.” 

 

“I knew Sara was gonna have a boy,” Bucky said with a shrug. 

 

“You had a 50/50 chance of getting that right.” 

 

“I still got it right,” he said, smugly, cause the asshole had won the family pool. Steve had missed him so much. 

 

Stopping next to Bucky’s bed, Steve squeezed Tony’s hand. “Tony this is my best friend Bucky. Bucky this is—” Steve swallowed before lifting his chin and forging ahead. “This is my alpha, Tony.” Tony lifted Steve’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it. 

 

“Nice to meetcha,” Bucky said, sounding stiff and Steve frowned at him getting a shrug in response. 

 

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” Tony held his hand out to Bucky, not looking put out by the fact that the other alpha stared at it before clasping it. They pumped their hands a couple times before letting go as if by some silent, mutual agreement. Alphas were so weird. “Good to finally put a face to the name.” 

 

“Yeah, well.” Bucky shifted, trying and failing to hide a wince. “It’s getting late. You two should probably get going. Dinner’ll be here soon anyway and you know how much I love hospital food.” 

 

“Oh, yeah, it’s your favorite.” Steve rolled his eyes, leaning over with a smile to hug Bucky goodbye. His friend wouldn’t admit that the day had been too much for him and Steve could see the pinched look around his eyes. “We’re in town for a few more days so I can come by tomorrow?” 

 

“Sounds good, punk. PT is at 1030, lunch at 1200. Anytime after that is good.” Bucky looked at Tony then back at Steve. “Give is a minute, would ya?” 

 

“Bucky,” he said in warning. 

 

“I just wanna talk to the man.” 

 

Tony’s hand touched his lower back. “It’s okay, kitten.” 

 

Bucky’s lips twitched at Tony’s endearment and Steve gave him a don’t-you-dare-laugh glare. Steve normally hated pet names, none of his other partners as ever been allowed to give him one. Tony was different in so many ways. “Play nice. Both of you.” He pointed a finger at them. 

 

“Model of politeness,” Tony told him, holding his hands up. 

 

“Yes, ma,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes. Steve flipped him off, making Bucky laugh. When Steve took a step toward the door, Bucky grabbed his hand. Whispering so Tony couldn’t hear, Bucky said, “You’re going to be an amazing dad.” 

 

Steve was trying not to cry when he left. Damnit, he  _ was  _ hormonal. He saw Sam standing at the nurses station at the end of the hall and went to talk to him to distract himself and so he wouldn’t stand at the door to eavesdrop. 

 

* * *

 

Tony stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. Whatever he had expected when picturing Steve’s best friend, the man on the bed in front of him wasn’t it, even having seen pictures prior. This man was a different person than the one who had left for his last deployment. Harder, jaded, whatever. Tony knew something about walking into the desert one person and leaving it another. Hair growing out of its army regulation cut, jaw shadowed by beard growth, eyes hollow, he looked tired and so much older than he was. He wouldn’t let anyone tell him what was going to happen in his relationship, but Bucky had his respect for all he’d been through and because he cared so much about Steve. 

 

“You about to tell me not to hurt him?” He didn’t mention that he already had. 

 

Bucky raised a brow, scratching at the stubble on his chin. “Do I need to?” 

 

“No.” 

 

“Then I won’t,” Bucky said and shrugged. “Stevie can take care of himself. Most of the time.” 

 

“Alright. Good talk. I’m going to—”

 

“Just know, though,” Bucky interrupted, leaning forward, expression hardening. “I won’t always be stuck in this bed and I only need one hand to shoot you.” 

 

His eyebrows slowly rose. Being a sniper, that wasn’t an idle threat. “I thought you weren’t going to tell me not to hurt him?” 

 

“I didn’t. I insinuated that if you did, I’d kill you. Completely different.” 

 

Well, he had him there. Tony let his mouth curl slightly on one side, nodding his understanding. “Seeing as we're stuck with each other now, I guess it’s good to set expectations.” 

 

Bucky looked out the window and Tony wondered if that was it, he was just rude and wouldn’t say goodbye, but he turned back before Tony could take a step. “He’s the best person I know.” Bucky didn’t need to clarify who he was talking about. He drew in a breath and blew it out. “I’m only telling this because Steve is in deep and not just because of the baby. He’s serious about you and the fact you didn’t balk at him introducing you as ‘his alpha’ tells me so are you. But you need to tell him that because he’s waiting for something to go wrong.” 

 

Tony frowned, feeling like the reactor was ripped out of his chest all over again. “Did he tell you that?” 

 

“He didn’t need to. I’ve known him most of my life. Steve wears his heart on his sleeve and can’t lie for shit.” Bucky’s gaze dropped to his hand in his lap. “Part of that’s s on me. He felt abandoned when I enlisted, I know that, but he still had his mom and my family. If I knew his mom was sick, I wouldn’t have re-upped.” 

 

Tony saw the way Bucky’s hand fisted, jaw clenching. He carried a lot of guilt for something he couldn’t have predicted, but that was something else Tony understood. “Speaking from experience, taking responsibility for every shitty thing that happens doesn’t accomplish anything.” 

 

Bucky nodded his head once, but didn’t look convinced. Tony didn’t know him, but Steve cared about him and that was enough. That and he’d gone through a lot for someone who wasn’t even out of his twenties. Despite popular opinion, Tony wasn’t an unfeeling monster. Which was why he found himself admitting, “Our relationship didn’t exactly have the best start. Without getting into too many details I don’t think you want or need to hear, I messed up and if he’s feeling unsure about us it’s got a lot to do with that. I’ll, I don’t know. Fix it. Something.” 

 

Somehow. He wasn’t taking the chance that Bucky was wrong. 

 

The younger man stared at him, head tilted, brow furrowed. “For some reason I believe you.” 

 

“Good, great. In that case, think I’ll be going. I need to figure out how to convince a stubborn omega that I’m committed. When nothing else I’ve done before has worked.” No big. Sounded easy. Piece of cake. “Sergeant,” Tony said, with a half assed salute, backing toward the door. Bucky rolled his eyes and picked up a book that was beside his bed. 

 

Well, shit. Could be in trying not to scare Steve away by moving too quickly, Tony hadn’t moved fast enough. He was getting a headache. Should be… fairly easy, right? He just needed to tell Steve he loved him. 

 

Not yet, though. The moment had to be right because otherwise Steve might think he didn’t really mean it. 

 

He found Steve at the nurse’s station talking to Sam who handed him a piece of paper before he told them both to have a good night. Tony draped his arm across Steve’s shoulders, steering him toward the elevators. 

 

“What’s that?” Steve asked when Tony tucked the paper from Sam in his pocket. 

 

“I asked if he knew any therapists in New York.” Steve just nodded. The elevator dinged, doors opening soundlessly, and when they stepped inside and Steve leaned his head against Tony’s chest, he felt like everything was going to be okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are serious motivation and you get ghost hugs. 
> 
> I’m on Tumblr sharing mostly MCU stuff and updates on WIPs @dyslexicsquirrel
> 
> Also, there’s a Bucky and Sam bonus scene posted in my _Bonus Content!_ fic.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s been like a month since the last update. It’s probably going to be close to that or more before I update again. Life is hella busy. I went back to work and I have the opportunity to possibly become assistant manager now. We’re also very short staffed right now so I’ve been picking up a lot of extra shifts. Between all that and school I don’t have as much time to write as I did when I started this fic and was not working or in classes. I’m not super happy with this chapter but :/ 
> 
> I am still working on this but don’t expect an update soon cause I can’t promise one. I just don’t have the time currently to write that often.

Dinner was going well and Steve really liked Rhodes, but he’d been nervous and Tony knew as soon as Steve walked back into the hotel room after visiting Bucky. 

 

Tony who had been going over emails Steve told him he needed to read, sitting on the couch with his feet on the coffee table, took one look at Steve and pulled him to sit down next to him before Steve could make it to the bedroom to fret about what he was going to wear. 

 

“He’ll love you,” Tony said and kissed his forehead. “And if he doesn’t, he’ll wait until you’re not around to tell me.” 

 

“Thanks. That made me feel so much better.” 

 

Tony chuckled at the face Steve pulled. “He likes you already. He’s why you have a studio, remember? You like the studio.”

 

“I thought that was only 12% his idea,” he snarked. 

 

“Do not throw my words back at me. That’s rude.” 

 

Steve’s nerves, plus the blue polo and gray dress pants Rhodes was wearing that made Steve feel underdressed in a flannel and jeans even though they weren’t at a fancy restaurant and Tony was wearing jeans and a band tee over a long sleeved shirt, were probably why when Tony introduced them he peered at the other alpha and said, “Call Rhodey ‘Colonel’, he likes it. Makes him feel all manly.”

 

Tony’s friend rolled his eyes, holding his hand out to Steve to shake. “Don’t listen to this fool. Call me James.”

 

Tony and James bickered like brothers. It reminded Steve of him and Bucky and he felt himself relax, pressed into Tony in their side of the booth as James told Steve another story of Tony from college. “He rigged all the sprinklers to go off right before our physics class—”

 

“I didn’t hear you complaining when we didn’t have to go. That professor was so boring,” Tony interrupted, the last directed toward Steve. 

 

“—except he didn’t isolate it just to that part of the building. They went off everywhere, including the robotics lab.” 

 

“Oh no,” Steve said at the same moment Tony groaned and dropped his face into his hands. 

 

“Oh, _yes_.” Rhodes’ face was filled with glee and he could see the edges of a smile peeking out behind Tony’s hands. “Ruined everyone’s projects, including his own.”

 

“Poor U 1.0.” Tony lifted his head and let his hands drop to the table. “That bot was never the same after that even though I completely rebuilt it.” 

 

“Is that why U can’t make smoothies?” Steve asked Tony.

 

“Oh, so you’ve suffered through U’s smoothies, have you?” Rhodes queried. 

 

“I intervened—on multiple occasions, mind you—to prevent the Smoothie Disaster of 2011,” Tony said. “I’m a humanitarian like that.” 

 

“Multiple occasions, huh?” Rhodes had a brow raised, looking at Tony. They had some kind of silent conversation that Steve couldn’t interpret that ended with an eye roll from Tony and chuckle from James. Then James turned back to Steve, who was staring at both alphas like he as at a tennis match. “So, you’re an artist, right? Tony show you his ridiculous art collection yet that he knows absolutely nothing about?”

 

“I know how much it’s worth,” Tony said in his defense. 

 

“I wouldn’t go so far as saying I’m an artist,” Steve told James. “And Pepper mentioned the art collection, but I haven’t seen it yet.” 

 

“Man, you’re slipping,” James tsked at Tony. He leaned across the table and, like he as sharing a secret with Steve, said, “You’ll have to forgive my friend here; he’s an idiot. Make him show you the art.” 

 

Steve hugged James when the night was over (he was emotional and hormonal and he’d been so nice, okay?).  A low growl from Tony had the other alpha breaking contact. “I’ll call you later,” James said and left for his car. 

 

It might not have been the best idea to hug another alpha when Tony still wasn’t stable all the time (the press conference came to mind) and hadn’t found a therapist yet, though he did have an appointment lined up with the doctor Sam had recommended. Tony was okay so often that sometimes Steve forgot. He normally wouldn’t be okay with an alpha being that jealous and territorial (him being pregnant or not), but Tony was the exception to… everything. Steve wasn’t upset; he just wanted to soothe him. 

 

Lifting up on his toes, Steve would his arms around Tony’s neck and kissed him on the sidewalk, snow falling lightly on their heads, people having to walk around them, until he felt Tony relax. Brows cocked, Steve asked, “Feeling better?” 

 

“Yeah. Damnit.” He sighed, lifted one hand from Steve’s hip to rub his face. “I need to apologize to Rhodey. I hate apologizing to Rhodey.” 

 

“I’m sure you’ll survive.”

 

He did survive and when they got back to New York Tony remembered to show Steve his art collection. 

  
  


* * *

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Stark.”

 

Tony shook the hand of the psychiatrist (psychologist? He could never remember which one was which) and smiled, slipping his sunglasses into the pocket of his suit jacket with his other hand. Dr. Chambers was omega, tall and slim, with dark skin and long red curly hair. There were a pair of glasses perched on the end of her nose and she wore a green silk blouse, a black pencil skirt, and ankle boots. 

 

“Should I lie down or…?” He asked when he sat down on the couch across from the armchair she claimed. 

 

 “Not unless you want to. First sessions are informal. Getting comfortable.” She set a notebook down in her lap, one of those yellow legal pads, folded her hands on top of it, and shrugged. “If that includes you laying down, that’s up to you.” 

 

Tony nodded and turned his head to look out the window. Her office faced the Hudson River and he could see all the way to New Jersey. “How do you know Sam,” he asked abruptly, gaze still out the window. “Wilson? Snarky guy? Works at Walter Reed.” 

 

“I know who you meant,” she said, wryly. “I’m married to one of his cousins.” 

 

“Mmm.” Tony drummed his fingers on the arm of the couch, fiddled with his watch, reached for his phone then changed his mind and ran his hands over his mouth. 

 

“Do you mind if I do some work?” 

 

Dr. Chamber’s voice pulled him from wherever his mind had wandered off to—flight stabilizers, increasing the dexterity of the prosthetic, adding an extra bathroom to the penthouse—realizing he must have lost track of time because the sun was lower, and blinked, jerking his head around. The shrink was pointing at a laptop on her desk, brows raised in question. “If you—what?” 

 

“I’m happy to sit here and let you run out the clock—you’ve already paid for the hour—but if you don’t mind, I have a few notes I need to transcribe.” 

 

She didn’t sound bothered about him ‘running out the clock,’ like she really was happy to sit here with him while stared at nothing, the only sound that of her quietly typing. He blinked, then forced a smile, relaxing into the couch. “By all means,” he replied, waving a magnanimous hand. A check of his watch showed that almost twenty minutes had gone by already. He hadn’t even noticed. Only forty minutes left to go. 

 

“How was it?” Steve looked up from the sketch pad resting against his folded legs when Tony walked off the elevator. He stopped in his tracks, arrested by the picture Steve made, backlit by the setting sun. He was so beautiful and sometimes Tony couldn’t actually believe he was here. 

 

“Tony?” 

 

Tony shook himself and dropped down on the couch, throwing his arm across the back. He still had his coat on and it was warm in the penthouse than normal because Steve was always cold, but he didn’t care because Steve leaned over for a kiss before fitting himself under Tony’s arm. “It was okay.” 

 

“Okay like she didn’t annoy you as much as the others or okay like you liked her?” 

 

“I made another appointment. What do you think?” 

 

“Really?” Steve’s surprise was understandable since Tony had seen what felt like all half the mental health professionals in New York City and hadn’t seen the same one twice. Some people might have been insulted by Dr. Chambers working on other things while in a session with them, but Tony wasn’t. She hadn’t pushed him to talk about anything, even trite getting-to-know-you things. 

 

“Really.” 

 

“Good,” Steve said, smiling softly, the one Tony only ever saw when they were alone together. The one that made him realize how ridiculous it was when he got jealous. The phone call with Rhodey after their dinner in DC hadn’t been as bad as he expected. Rhodey had taken it in stride, but he still didn’t like that he was being controlled by his instincts so much right now. He knew he was being a possessive, overprotective  ass even when it was happening, but couldn’t seem to stop it. The fact that Steve accepted it—not without some exasperation—was a miracle, but one that might not last forever. Maybe next week he’d actually discuss some of this with Dr. Chambers. 

 

Steve turned back to his sketchbook. “Can we get pizza for dinner?” 

 

“Fine with me.” 

 

“Okay, because I am having a serious craving,” he said, rubbing absently at his belly as he sketched. Tony chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. 

 

* * *

 

“What is all this?” 

 

“I’m not really sure,” Steve replied, taking in all the boxes in the room next to his studio with wide eyes. He tipped his head to look at Tony. “I ordered some stuff, but I didn’t I ordered  _ this _ much.” 

 

Tony had been at his therapy session, his third one in as many weeks (an early one because they planned to go out to dinner later and Tony said he had some work to do in the workshop), when JARVIS informed Steve that he had a delivery. Steve had told the AI to send it up. He hadn’t expected to find two burly men with giant boxes on the elevator. He’d ordered a few things in case he and Tony did decide to turn the spare room into a nursery. If nothing else it would come in handy if he needed to put the baby down for a nap and he wanted to get some painting or sketching in. Just a few things or so he thought. 

 

Steve had them put the boxes in the empty room, feeling daunted by the prospect of opening all this stuff, but the men had gone downstairs and  _ come back  _ with more boxes. Steve thought there was an entire room full of furniture in there, plus a bunch of smaller boxes he didn’t have the first clue of what was inside. He was standing in the middle of it all wondering where to start when Tony came home. 

 

“Okay, well.” Tony looked at Steve expectantly. 

 

“Well, what?” 

 

“Let’s open them and find out.” 

 

“If I open this stuff I might not be able to return it.” 

 

Tony snorted. “Why would you need to? Not like we don’t have the money to afford it.” 

 

Not like  _ Tony  _ didn’t have the money, but Steve didn’t say that. The money for all of this had come out of his bank account, not Tony’s, even though Steve had access as his assistant. He was hardly struggling for money now with his salary and not having to pay rent and his mom’s medical bills were almost paid off, but it still felt wasteful. If he couldn’t return it to the store, he could always sell it on Craig’s List. He was probably being ridiculous; he was having a kid and kids need stuff like cribs and—he squinted at something Tony pulled something from a plane cardboard box—a Bopy? He didn’t even know what that was. And was Tony cutting the boxes open with a  _ laser _ ? 

 

“You’re planning on nursing?” 

 

“What?” No? Maybe? He didn’t know yet. “Why?” 

 

Tony held the Bopy aloft.  On the front was a woman with the pillow thing around her waist and a baby resting on it while nursing. Ah, now he remembered. An omega running a blog about her life raising twins had said it was a life saver for her and how the “health benefits of nursing make it the best choice!” He remembered thinking that if he did decide to nurse that having one of the nursing pillows would help and apparently he’d ordered it. 

 

“I’m not sure yet.” Tony shrugged and put it back in the box, reaching for another. The thing in his palm glowed, cutting the tape open with precision. “What  _ is _ that?” 

 

“Hmm? Oh, this?” He lifted his hand and waggled it back and forth. Showing off something that circled his wrist and covered part of his fingers, with a circle in the middle of his palm. “Retrofitted my watch with one of the repulsors lime on the suit. Incorporates some of what I used for the briefcase the Mark IIII is in. It’s for emergencies. In case I can’t get to the suit, but me sometime. At least until the MarkVI is done and, well, good idea to have it around anyway.” 

 

“What kind of emergencies?” 

 

“I was kidnapped out an army convoy; you never know what can happen.” Tony hardly ever brought up what happened in Afghanistan. He did was know if that was a good sign or a bad one that he was being it up now. He spoke in an offhand manner, like it wasn’t a big deal, like people got abducted by terrorist organizations everyday, but the fingers of his left hand were tapping at the ARC reactor, something Tony hadn’t done much lately. Steve opened his mouth, not sure what he was going to say, but Tony tapped the side of one of the larger boxes. “Hey, this one looks like a crib. Want to put this bad boy together?” 

 

“Yeah sure.” He was going to let it drop for now, he really was, but he reached for Tony’s writ, making him pause in the middle of opening the crib box. Tony hand turned to face him. “Tony, are you okay?” 

 

Tony’s face softened and he cupped Steve’s cheek with his left hand. “Yeah, kitten, I’m fine. Really. Just tired.” 

 

“Tony, if you’re—” 

 

“I’m okay. I promise.” Tony pressed their foreheads together, his hands going to Steve’s hips to pull him close. Steve eyes slid shut because it feels so good being surrounded by his alpha, especially now. “I’ve got you.How could I not be?” 

 

Steve laughed, wrapping his own arms around Tony’s waist. “You know you don’t have to try so hard anymore, right?” 

 

He’d said it to tease, but Tony gripped his chin and when Steve opened his eyes the look on Tony’s face was dead serious. “I’ll never stop trying. I’m an overachiever. You’ll have to get used to it.” 

 

He had no response to that because his throat was closing up, a ball of words he wasn’t brave enough to say lodged in the middle. I don’t want you to stop trying, he thought. Try forever. Or don’t, but just stay. Instead of speaking he nodded, but the damn hormones had tears welling. He tried to stop them from falling, but one made its way down his cheek and Tony caught it with his thumb. “Kitten, what’s wrong?” 

 

Then the floodgates opened. Between his hormones and his fear of losing Tony even though he was  _ right here _ and kept saying he wasn’t going anywhere and Steve believed him, he did, but his mom hadn’t meant to die so young and Bucky almost never came home. Tony was doing his Iron Man thing and Steve really didn’t begrudge him that. Tony was a hero no matter what he thought of himself, but he was more scared than he thought. Or this pregnancy was making him nuts. 

 

But Tony pulled him against his chest and wrapped up in Tony’s arms, breathing in the scent of alpha,  _ his _ alpha—something he thought he’d never have and hadn’t realized he wanted until Tony—he cried out all his worries and fears. Tony spoke nonsense into his hair, rubbed circles into his back, until Steve could breathe steady and the tears were nothing but wet track on his skin. He pulled his face away from Tony’s chest and saw the wet spots all over the front of his dress shirt. 

 

“I’m sorry. I can send that out with your dry cleaning later,” he said, rubbing at the wet spots with his fingers, and tipped his head back to look up at Tony and froze under the intensity of his stare.

 

“I love you,” Tony said, the words sounding as if they were punched out of him. 

 

He was so caught off guard the only thing he could think to say was, “What?”

 

Perfect response when your boyfriend and the father of your unborn child tells you they love you for the first time. Great story to tell their kid one day.

 

“I love you,” Tony repeated, his hands tightening almost hard enough to hurt, pulling Steve closer when there was barely any space between their bodies. “This isn’t the way I wanted to do this.” 

 

He sounded upset—at himself most likely if Steve knew him at all, which he thought he did by now. Steve didn’t want Tony to talk himself out of that ‘I love you,’ so he pulled Tony’s lips down to his and kissed him. It was soft and gentle, and he ran his fingers through Tony’s hair until that almost-a-purr started rumbling through Tony’s chest. Steve could feel it vibrating against his own. 

 

When he ended the kiss he said, “This is perfect.” Screw having a story for their kids (he was ignoring the fact he had thought of their offspring  in the plural); he just wanted Tony and Tony loved him and that was enough. He pecked Tony’s lips and stepped back from his arms. “Help me open the rest of this box. I don’t ever remember what this crib looks like.” 

 

Twenty minutes later they were both seated on the ground in the middle of crib pieces and hardware, while Steve flipped through the instructions and Tony moped silently. Steve But his lip trying not to smile. Finally, having enough, Tony huffed, “You’re not going to say anything back? Really?” 

 

Steve lost his battle, a wide grin spread across his face, and looked up from the instruction booklet. He admitted, “I was trying to see how long it would take before you said anything.” 

 

“You little brat,” Tony growled and pounced, pushing Steve flat on his back. He tickled him until Steve gasped around his laughter, “Stop. Stop! I love you, I love you.” 

 

Tony kissed him, hard and hungry and desperate. They clung to each other and maybe it wouldn’t win them a Parents-To-Be of the Year award, fucking on the floor of the would-be nursery, but Steve wouldn’t stopped if he could. 

 

* * *

 

The ticking of the clock in his therapists office was driving him crazy. Who even used clocks like that anymore? Tony stood from the couch, crossed to the window and back. “You don’t mind if I pace do you? Cause I feel like I need to pace.” 

 

“You can pace if you need to, Mr. Stark.” Dr. Chambers looked at him calmly and for some reason something that normally wouldn’t have annoyed him had Tony clenching his teeth. 

 

“Oh, please,” Tony huffed, waving a hand. “For the last time it’s Tony. Mr. Stark was my father. And just wait until we really dive into that train wreck.” 

 

“Sorry. Tony.” Dr. Chambers smiled, the expression chagrined. “I don’t normally get celebrity clients.” 

 

“Yeah.” He sighed, collapsing into the couch. He was a celebrity for all the wrong reasons. Iron Man was new; that wasn’t what made his name familiar to everyone who had access to the internet and tv. He’d been on a video conference with Fury and Rhodey yesterday. Apparently there was some problem in the Middle East—why was it always in the desert?—that the WSC was requesting assistance from SHIELD. Fury was dragging his heels, trying to get everything out of it that he could, but Tony has every belief that he and Rhodey would receive the ‘go’ before too long. 

 

Tony’s newest suit wasn’t ready, but the Mark VI was good for now, and Tony had finished the upgrades on Rhodey’s suit already. After it had been shipped to him, he’d tipped the whole thing apart. His best friend wasn’t going anywhere in a subpar suit. He was itching to do something, go somewhere, and help. He might not have meant to expose the fact that he was Iron Man to the world, but now he couldn’t deny that he wanted to be known for something that wasn’t idiotic, scandalous or making something destructive…. Okay, so making something else that was a weapon to achieve that was perhaps counterintuitive, but when had he ever cared about that. 

 

Of course none of that was responsible for how fidgety and on edge he felt. And his therapist had picked up on it. “Did you want to talk about anything specific today? You seem as if something is bothering you.” 

 

She waited while Tony looked out the windows, fingers tapping against the arm of the couch. He noticed for the first time that Dr. Chambers had a fern in the corner, a real one, not the plastic kind. He wasn’t sure why that was important, but for a while, the ticking of the clock the only sound in the room, Tony stared at the green of the leaves, the way they moved gently in the warm air from the heater vent above. He kept his gaze trained on them as he talked. 

 

“The military shrink the army made me talk to before they’d let me leave the hospital said I had PTSD. Or that I might developers it. I can’t remember, exactly. She did recommend I find someone when I came back stateside, which of course, I didn’t.” His smile lacked mirth, more of a grimace. “Things were, well, they weren’t great. Nightmares when I could actually sleep, I distanced myself from everyone, including my girlfriend. All I did was work.” 

 

The ticking of the clock was joined by the soft scratch of Dr. Chambers’ pen across her legal pad before it stopped. What had she found interesting or significant enough to write down, he wondered. 

 

“I feel like I can’t trust my mind some days.” For someone like Tony, who relied so heavily on his intelligence, that was worse than the torture the terrorists had subjected him to. But it wasn’t even the worst part. He laughed, hand balling up into a fist. “Now I can’t even trust my own feelings.” 

 

“What do you mean?” 

 

“As if everything else wasn’t bad enough… I thought I’d gotten past this, at least. But ever since I told Steve I love him I can’t help but think that my mind is playing tricks on me and now his best friend is going to shoot me. He could do it with one arm, but I just had to build him a new one so he has two. At least I haven’t given it to him yet. I can still throw it in a compactor.” 

 

“Tony, wait, I feel like I’m missing something here.” 

 

When he turned his head to face Dr. Chambers, her brow was furrowed, head tilted slightly to the side. “The whole PTSD make me glom onto an omega thing.” 

 

“This is why I hate WedMD,” it sounded like Dr. Chambers said under her breath. But she cleared her throat before Tony could get offended. “Yes, as an alpha who developed PTSD after a traumatic experience, there is a chance of you ‘glomming’ as you put it, onto an omega. But I want to stress that while it’s your brain trying to cope with something unpleasant by focusing on good things, your feelings are your own.” 

 

She sighed, lightly, just a small rush of air past her lips. “Alphas are instinctually hardwired to protect, provide, and care for omegas. We as a species may have evolved from our cave dwelling ancestors and rely on more than those instincts now, but they’re still buried deep in DNA. You’ve been struggling with flashbacks and nightmares, distancing yourself from friends and family—your brain  _ knows _ you're struggling. We aren’t pack animals anymore, not in the strictest sense, but we still form packs of a sort.” 

 

“Okay, and?” Genetics might not have been Tony’s field of expertise, but he knew as much about their evolution as the next person (maybe more, okay, since he was a genius). 

 

“You had no pack. You had no omega. Your fear responses were being amplified by the PTSD. I don’t know anything about your relationship with Steve or how it started, but you felt attracted to him and that’s real. You grew to love him and that’s real. Those feelings are being amplified along with your fear responses, but they’re real.” 

 

“That’s what my best friend said.” Tony let his head fall back against the couch and stared up at the ceiling. “But he also told me about an alpha he served with who went a bit nuts after she got out and almost hurt her girlfriend.” 

 

“Cases like that are the exception to the rule, Tony. You don’t strike me as a violent person.” 

 

Tony snorted. “That’s not the general consensus. I was a weapons manufacturer, remember? A now I fly around in a suit of armor, blowing things up.” 

 

“You don’t make it a habit to get into physical altercations, though, do you?” 

 

“No.” 

 

She shrugged. “Your job doesn’t define you. You made weapons, sure, but you weren’t using them.” 

 

Tony still wasn’t convinced. Some voice in the back of his head kept piping up, filling him with doubts. He loved Steve so much, but what if it  _ wasn’t  _ real? Because he just kept wondering why it hadn’t been Pepper? They had been together for years. Why had he latched onto Steve? He really wanted it to be real this thing with Steve, needed it to be. Steve was the best thing in his life. 

 

“Do you feel as if you would ever hurt Steve physically?” 

 

“Fuck no.” He’d cut off his arm before he did that. 

 

“There you go.” She looked at him as if it really were that simple and maybe it was. “Working through your PTSD will help with the nightmares and flashbacks and it will temper some of your reactions, like blowing up a at a room full of reporters that insult your boyfriend.” 

 

Tony lifted his head. “Saw that did you?” 

 

One corner of his mouth curved up before she sobered. “I can guarantee, though, that therapy will not make your feelings for Steve disappear.” 

 

“I’ll hold you to that,” Tony replied. 

 

“Now,” Dr. Chambers said, shifting in her chair and recrossing her legs. “Why don’t you tell me about Steve? How did you two meet?” 

 

Tony let out a slow breath. He opened his mouth to speak, but paused. Grabbing one of the throw pillows from the other end of the couch to put under his head, Tony kicked his feet up and laid down across the couch. He thought he heard Dr. Chambers snort, hit when he turned his head she was completely composed. Tony folded his hands across his stomach and looked back up at the ceiling. 

 

“Pepper, my former assistant slash girlfriend and the current CEO of my company thought I needed a new assistant. I wasn’t really having it, you know. Didn’t want anyone around me at the time, but she was insistent. The last one quit and Pep gets me up to my penthouse under false pretenses, mind you, and tells me there’s another candidate coming for an interview. We were arguing about it when this voice says, ‘excuse me.’” Tony smiled, remembering that moment. “I turned around there was this scrawny omega in an ill-fitting suit, but he was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen… So, of course I insulted him.” 

 

Tony spent the entire rest of his hour giving Dr. Chambers a crash course on Steve Rogers. That doubt filled voice was quieter by the time he left. When he got back to the penthouse and found Steve seated at the kitchen island on the phone with Bucky it got even softer. 

 

And when Steve stopped in the middle of a sentence to smile at Tony and welcome him home, hopping off the stool to press a quick kiss to Tony’s lips even though it had only been a couple hours since they’d seen each other, the voice shut up and didn’t start talking again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m probably going to be jumping forward a bit in the next chapter just FYI. 
> 
> Thank you so much everyone for all your kudos and comments ❤️
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr- Dyslexicsquirrel 
> 
> Also, I’m currently doing a Marvel RBB. Art claims don’t happen until the 8th so I haven’t started on it yet since I don’t know for sure what I’m writing about yet, but keep an eye out for that if you’re so inclined lol


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